The Price Of Knowledge
by Slug's bay
Summary: Tony finds more than he bargained for as he hunts for a spy. COMPLETE
1. Home Sweet Home

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 24 or any of its characters.

_This story takes place between seasons 3 and 4, shortly after Tony's release from prison._

Weak afternoon light filtered through the blinds, lighting up the end of a long wooden table. Dust particles drifted lazily downwards, settling on the shiny surface, and the neighbor's cat walked along the fence, tail sticking up. Tony rubbed his eyes, gazing aimlessly outside. Idly he wandered what had distracted him, unwilling to admit the truth to himself – it felt too good to be true sitting at home. He pushed his chair back and wandered into the kitchen, leaning against the wall.

'Hi Tony, are you ready for a coffee?' questioned his mother with a gentle smile

'I guess so,' he agreed, settling on a bar stool. Elbows propped on the counter he watched her fill the coffee maker, reveling in the smells of cooking. Chopped onions lay in a saucepan, whilst tomatoes and capsicum lay on a plate, sliced thin. 'Can I help with anything?'

His mother glanced carefully over at him. 'Sure. I got another bag of stuff to chop. But you're busy with something, sweetheart.'

Tony shook his head nonchalantly. 'I'm not that busy,' he admitted. 'It's just an old lead I'm following.' He drew the plate and knife towards himself and set to work. 'An old lead I just can't seem to forget,' he thought to himself. _You got a real problem, Almeida. It's been almost a year since Bob died, and you got 20 people arrested, and you're just not satisfied. You'll take this with you to the grave!_

His mother stirred the onions, smiling at him. He smiled back at her, reading her easily. She was thrilled to have him stay for a few days, delighted he was released from prison. The last year during his imprisonment had been tough on all of them, and she was the only one who had not insisted he settle down and put the past behind him the moment he was released. She never judged him, seeking only to prop him up through her strength, visiting him without mentioning it to anyone. As though she read his thoughts, she left the stove and moved over to him, pulling him close for another hug. Tony laid down the knife and slipped his arm round her. 'I'm ok now, mom,' he said softly.

His mother collected herself, straightening. 'I know that, sweetheart. I just need to be able to feel you, with none of that, that glass between us. It's only been three weeks.'

He stared at her startled. _You almost told me what you really thought about that glass, mom!_ Visiting him in prison had shown her something of a side of life she had been largely unaware of, and it had toughened her. She and his father had risked a lot, taking food to him to his hidden beach whilst he prepared for his escape, they had both been interrogated and had remained silent about his whereabouts, they had been threatened with imprisonment if it turned out at any time that they had aided him. The phone rang, startling them both. His mother shook her head, hurrying back to stir the onions. Tony got up slowly to lift the receiver, resenting his afternoon interrupted.

'Almeida,' he answered absentmindedly, leaning against the family room wall, glancing at the bullet hole that still hadn't been repaired. He was unprepared for the voice at the other end.

'Antonio? What are you doing there? I heard they released you. Better behave this time, or they'll take you right back! What are you doing with yourself these days? Are you working yet?'

Tony grimaced, covering the phone with a hand. 'Mom, its abuela,' he said. 'She wants to talk to you.'

His mother appeared, a terrified look on her face. She shook her head rapidly and put a finger to her lips. 'I'm out shopping,' she whispered. 'You talk to her, Tony.'

Tony rolled his eyes at her and settled on the floor. 'Mom's out shopping,' he lied, turning to grin at his mother, who nodded gratefully before disappearing back into the kitchen. 'Me? I'm staying here for a week. Michelle's at Langley for ten days so the house would be too quiet. No, I haven't got a job yet.' He sighed deeply. 'No, I'm not home looking for one coz I got a bad cold and mom ordered me to relax this week.' He listened silently for a while. 'No, you're right. I don't sound like I gotta cold, but that's because I'm feeling better today. Mom's herbal teas are starting to work.' Once again he listened to his grandmother, rubbing his eyes. He felt tired often nowadays, and caught every cold going around, and was sicker with them. The doctor had run a few tests but all came out fine, so he was ordered to eat well, rest and get a little exercise. 'I'm sorry abuela, that I caused you such embarrassment,' he sighed. 'Aha, I can imagine how it felt, when all the old ladies came to ask if it's true you have a grandson in prison, but you could have denied it.' He listened silently, his face turning red. 'Well, I'm real sorry someone here told someone's relative and every old lady in Chicago knows, but trust me, my life was pretty close to hell in there, so right now I don't care whether you can or cannot face the dinner at the Spanish Club tonight!' He laid the receiver down forcefully without saying goodbye, groaning aloud.

'Tony? What did she say?' questioned his mother, appearing with a wooden spoon in her hand.

He followed her back to the kitchen. 'Not that much. She just basically wanted to know everything about me, oh, and to let me know how I embarrassed her.' He chewed his lip in silence, settling back on the bar stool. 'I guess some things don't change. Remember in Chicago when I got suspended from school after Papa taught me how to fight, how embarrassed she was then? Some kid told his mom, and everyone heard about it, and by dinner she'd called you to chew you out.'

His mother laughed, moving closer to pat his hair. 'You're still upset about it? Let it go, Tony, she doesn't mean it badly.'

Tony pushed the plate of chopped vegetables to her, and she added them to the saucepan. A delicious odor wafted through the kitchen and he laid his head on his arm, closing his eyes. 'Tony. You should go and have a rest, you're not well yet,' his mother said gently, fussing over him.

A smile played across his face as he opened his eyes, noting her concern. 'I'm fine, mom. Hey, we didn't have the coffee yet! That's why I'm dropping off to sleep!'

His mother shook her head. 'Go upstairs and have a nap, sweetheart, and I'll warm the coffee when you get up.' She pulled his arm persistently and he rose, allowing her to lead him to the stairs. 'Get some sleep. It's ok, there's nothing else happening at the moment.'

He climbed the stairs, lost in thought. _You're wrong, mom, there's always something happening! Some bastard will be planning something right now_. A sigh escaped him as he pushed open his old bedroom door, noting the lack of change. Two bunk beds lined the walls, all four beds made up. Tony pulled off his jeans and shoes and paused before the bottom bunk, staring at a model ship in silence before he climbed up to his own bed. _I'll get them all, Bobby_! Exhausted, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, waking moments later in cold sweat.

_Relax Almeida; you're not in prison anymore_. He shook his head to clear it of the image of two guards pushing him into a cage, the sound of a slamming door reverberating through him. Letting out a deep breath he rolled over, allowing his eyes to shut. Once again he fell asleep, seeing his younger brother on the gangway of a ship, seeing a handful of men pressing some buttons. 'NO.' Tony woke up shaking, wiping his forehead automatically.

Silently he climbed out of bed, dragging his blanket behind him, and moved over to the corner of the room, beside their old toy box. Wrapping himself in his blanket he leaned against the wall, resting his head on it, legs stretched out. _How often did I get to stand here, facing the wall, Papa?_ An amused grin crept across his face as he closed his eyes again. _Don't go to sleep, Almeida, just rest. It's almost as good._ His exhausted body lost the battle he fought with it and he fell asleep, head hanging forwards, his chest rising and falling. He failed to hear the door opening, failed to see his parents' faces as they peeped in at him.

'Tony.' He forced his eyes open, weary. 'Dinner's ready. You should come down and eat. Rita's here, she'd love to see you.'

He nodded, unwrapping himself. He tossed the blanket back on the bed and followed his father outside and down the stairs, wrapped instantly in his sister's arms. 'Tony! I wanted to come see you; I left the kids with Miguel and just came. You should come more often.'

They ate dinner together, Rita talking about the new mischief her two sons had thought up in the previous week while his parents laughed aloud. 'Sweetheart, they get it from you, I doubt whether the professor left his books long enough to do anything wrong,' their father told her, highly entertained.

'Come on, Papa,' Rita protested, her eyes sparkling. 'I was a good kid, wasn't I, Tony? Come on, I NEVER did anything wrong!' She gave him a gentle push, inviting him to agree with her.

Tony shook his head, forcing bad memories of the previous year aside. 'Wasn't it you who wandered off in K-Mart, while mom was getting shoes for Bobby? We had to go to the front counter and announce we lost you, and they asked what you were wearing, and poor mom couldn't remember.' He found himself relaxing, laughing with the rest of them. _You're ok, Almeida, as long as you're awake!_

'How could I possibly remember what she was wearing?' their mother interrupted. 'Come on, I had six children with me, I barely remembered what we even needed, and I kept a real sharp eye on Marco, only it wasn't him who wandered off that time.'

'Yeah, Marco Polo,' Tony said, remembering the pet name for his brother when they were very young. 'He did have a habit of wandering away. Remember when a security guard found him riding the escalators when he was about two?'

'I don't know how we ever survived all of you,' his mother said, her eyes sparkling.

Tony shook his head gently. 'You loved every moment of it, mom,' he reminded her. 'We all did.' He noticed his parents exchanged glances, before they rose to clear the table.

'No, we'll do it. You two talk,' his father said, gathering up the plates. Tony walked down the passage to the family room, switching on the light. His laptop sat on the table and he pulled it shut, sitting in an armchair opposite his sister.

'So how's it going?' she asked, nodding her head at his computer. 'What are you still looking for, Tony? I thought all the men who laid the explosives were caught.'

'They were.' Tony gazed past the closed laptop to the glass door leading outside to a dark garden. 'I just can't understand it all. Something's still missing.'

'What?' Rita folded her arms, questioning him. He decided to run it by her, the most analytical one of his entire family.

'The entire fleet was on a three day exercise, right? All the bombers who were in the Navy were on Captain Melville's ship, and he came first on the second day, not the first. My question is, how did those terrorists in the port know which ship was coming in; they had to know in advance, Rita, if only a few minutes, to set the detonators. It was vital for them to berth in the right spot, or the bombs would go off without much damage.'

'Someone told them,' Rita answered automatically.

Tony nodded. 'Yeah, I keep coming to that conclusion myself. But here's the interesting part, those terrorists on the ship were all accounted for, none of them made a call.' He sighed heavily.

'Someone else made the call,' Rita told him, folding her arms. 'Someone who had live coverage of the war games and knew the moment Melville finished.'

'Yeah,' he agreed. 'But I've checked everyone on the ship that many times, no one else fits the role. And there were no out going calls during the 20 minutes it took them to reach port.' He sighed frustrated.

'So what about someone from defense, or intelligence?' Rita questioned.

Tony looked at her in silence for a while, nodding his head. 'A spy.' He couldn't bring himself to utter the word "traitor". 'Yeah, I guess it's the only remaining possibility. That's such a large group,' he shook his head. 'I guess I got a little time now to check it out.' _It's not as though any of your job applications have been successful so far!_

Rita looked concerned. 'Are you sure you wanna do that, Tony? You don't have that kind of security clearance, it would mean hacking in, and you're just out of prison. If you start looking in the wrong place you could piss a lot of people off, and they might arrest you.' Their eyes met across the room, holding each other's gaze. 'It's not worth it, Tony. Let someone else check it out.'

'There's no one else,' he told her gently. 'They're already satisfied with the twenty guys they arrested, they just assume one of them was lying and made the call and it just got missed.' He rubbed his face vigorously. 'No one is interested in pursuing the matter further. Michelle told me the case was closed!'

Rita stood up slowly and crossed the room, sitting close beside him. 'So why can't you follow their example, let it go?' she asked, putting her arm round him. 'We can't lose you again, Tony.'

Tony pulled her closer, giving her a hug. 'Hey, I can take care of myself,' he reminded her. 'Rita, if there is a spy somewhere, they're not just going to quit, you know. They'll be biding their time, planning another hit, probably on a soft target now, as our ships are on heightened alert. Soft target means civilians, Rita, people like you, with kids. I can't just ignore that.'

'Does Michelle know what you're doing?' she asked him, not surprised to see him shake his head. 'She'll chew you out when she finds out,' she told him, attempting to keep the conversation light.

'Yeah, you're probably right,' he agreed, falling silent as their parents entered the room.

The sound of approaching footsteps startled him hours later as he sat in the deserted family room, searching security files. Turning, he saw his father enter the room, shaking his head. 'Tony! What are you doing, at this hour? You'll never get over your cold if you don't sleep.'

Tony nodded, rubbing his eyes. 'I'm almost done, Papa.'

His father settled in an armchair, watching him. 'Antonio, I'm not stupid. I can see it keeps coming back to you when you sleep, but it will stop after a while, I promise. You're strong enough to face it, you're home now, and we're all here for you.'

Tony closed the laptop and settled next to his father. _Sure he chewed me out last week for avoiding Michelle, spending the last coupla nights alone on the beach, but he was absolutely right. He was thinking of joining me in prison!_ He sighed quietly, leaning his head against the couch. 'I'm not,' he said, so softly his father barely heard him.

'You're not what, Tony?' he asked, concerned. 'Of course you're home, this will always be your home.'

Tony nodded. 'I know. I'm not strong enough.' He longed to pour himself a strong drink but remained on the couch, pressing his eyes shut. 'You should forget about me, Papa, I can't even seem to find a job! Marco's great, you can be real proud of him, Joey too.' His heart ached as he withheld Bobby's name.

'I'm real proud of all of you,' his father said, squeezing his shoulder. 'Especially you, Tony. You went through hell and you made it back. Now why don't you lie down and I'll bring a blanket, and you sleep a few hours?' Before Tony could protest his father left the room, returning with his blanket. He wrapped Tony up like the tired child he resembled, sitting beside him. 'Close your eyes, Antonio. You're gonna sleep well tonight. Do you remember the time I met your principal in Chicago, Ms, oh, I don't remember her name?'

Tony's shoulders lost a little of their rigidity and he settled comfortably. 'Yeah,' he answered, smiling in the darkness. 'I do. Why exactly did you go there, Papa? What did I do?'

His father stroked his hair, smiling quietly. 'Keep your eyes shut and I'll tell you. It was nothing to do with you, it was your mom. She felt sorry for you missing out on everything, so she took you to visit all her friends to play with the children. Your principal wrote demanding to know why you were missing so much school, and your mom said she couldn't face going there, so she sent me. We went to her office together, you and me…'

'And Ms Emerson was a little harsh in her description of foreigners,' Tony remembered.

'She was. She told me I obviously don't seem to understand the education system, so I got a little mad and told her I obviously don't, would she enlighten me. My son can read and write, he can do simple arithmetic, he knows all the countries in the world apart from in Africa which we hadn't covered yet, he knows a bit about the great civilizations, what have you taught him? And then she got even more annoyed and sent you out when you started laughing, and…'

'And she said school is about building social skills, about interaction,' Tony interrupted. 'I was listening outside, I heard it all. And then you said, "ah, you mean playing with other children? We have plenty of friends, trust me!"'

His father laughed aloud. 'Did I say that? Ah well, she insulted me first, I was quite prepared to apologize for your poor attendance. Still, I did promise you'd come more often, and then I took you to your class.'

'And when we were in the corridor you said you take it that this lady is not married, and that she never will be, with that voice! And then you said she's a pain in the arse!'

Tony's father laughed louder. 'And I asked you right afterwards to forget I just said that. How come you still remember?'

Tony joined in the laughter. 'Are you kidding? I'll remember that scene as long as I know my own name! It was great!' He felt his father stroking his hair gently and he fell silent, drifting off to sleep.


	2. The Can Of Worms

The phone woke him, ringing persistently on the wall. Tony rubbed his eyes and sat up, unusually refreshed. The drawn curtains kept the room dim, but he could see bright sunlight peering through the cracks. Someone picked up the second phone in the kitchen and he stirred lazily, pushing his blanket aside. He crept upstairs and had a quick shower, pulling clean clothes on and combing his hair before he joined his mother. 'Hi mom. What's the time?'

'11:08,' she answered, amused. 'I'll get some coffee and toast.'

'Oh,' Tony muttered, embarrassed. 'You should've woken me.'

His mother laid his breakfast in front of him. 'No, sweetheart, you needed to sleep. You already look a lot better.' She poured herself coffee and settled opposite him. 'What are you doing today, Tony? It's quite warm for a winter's day; you should get a little fresh air.'

He nodded, glancing through the blinds. 'Yeah. I'll go down to the beach for a while.'

His mother smiled gently. 'I was going to suggest that. Sweetheart, I don't want you swimming now, ok? You're not quite over that cold.'

Tony rolled his eyes, laughing in annoyance. 'Mom, you're worse than Michelle. I'm fine.'

His mother shook her head firmly. 'You're not. Remember, no swimming. Tony.' He turned to look at her, exasperated. 'I'm your mother, I'm never gonna stop worrying about you.' Heart bursting, he leaned forward, feeling her stroke his hair. 'I'm off to work after lunch, but I'll here for dinner,' she told him, pulling him close for a hug. 'But dinner might be a little late tonight.'

'That's fine,' he replied, carrying his dishes to the sink. 'I might spend a little time at home, there's something I need to check out on Michelle's computer. I'll see you when you get back.'

He was unable to miss the anxious expression his mother cast him. _Yeah mom, you're right. This is turning into an obsession now, I know. I just can't leave it_. Hot water burned his fingers and he rapidly turned the cold tap. 'I'll see you at dinner.'

The sun was warm for mid-January, and he removed his jacket and sat on the sand in his jeans and t-shirt, gazing at the endless ocean. Just three weeks ago his life had been over, wasted day by day in solitary confinement, and now he was back at the beach, a free man. Tony watched the moving mass of blue before him for an hour before he rose and wandered over to the beach café, rubbing his face. Taking a deep breath he pushed the door open and went inside, wondering whether he would be recognized.

'Lieutenant Almeida,' exclaimed the owner, grinning from ear to ear. Tony found his hand being pumped, and felt himself grin back, relieved at his welcome. 'Come in. Lunch is on the house. I heard they let you out, but you never came by.'

Tony settled at the furthest table and drank a little water, gazing round the café. 'You've done well, Ray,' he observed, as his lunch arrived.

'Yes sir, I have!'

Tony shook his head mildly. 'Now Ray, we discussed this before! There's no need for you to call me sir! It's been over twelve years.'

'Sergeant Koskinen was here yesterday,' Ray told him. 'He's been posted back home for a while. We spoke a lot about the old days sir, and about you. Look, why don't you come for lunch tomorrow, he'll be here. I know he really wanted to see you.'

'Sergeant Koskinen,' Tony repeated, drawn back to his military days. A picture of his silent capable sergeant came to him, arming his men before he received his next orders, ready for combat 24 hours a day. 'Tell him I'll be here.' He ate his lunch slowly, watching the ocean, lost in memories. _Had I known what the future held in store, I would've remained with the Marines._ He found himself looking forward to seeing Koskinen again. _You're healing, Almeida, its taking a while but you're getting there. You're not scared of running into people anymore_.

He drove back to the house he owned with Michelle, leaving his car on the driveway. Yesterday's rain had come at the right moment, saving him the work of turning on the sprinklers. He let himself in, placing his keys in his jacket pocket before he hung it on the pegs beside the door. The house was clean and silent. Tony wandered into the kitchen and filled the coffee maker, before he moved into the office and powered up Michelle's computer. She would be mad at him, he knew, but he needed her security clearance to access the highest circles in Intelligence and discover their mole. Someone was passing out classified information, he was certain of it. He had time, he would find them.

Pushing aside his guilt he entered Michelle's password, watching another box appear. This one demanded an access code. Tony smiled bitterly, typing the numbers in. For a moment he worried that she might have changed it, but it seemed the time held as deep significance for her as it did for him_. The date our baby was supposed to have been born_. He paused momentarily, lost in thought, remembering their sorrow at losing the baby eight weeks into the pregnancy_. "It'll be ok, sweetheart. You heard the doctor. There's no reason why we can't have another baby, a healthy one." Michelle had pushed his arm away, wiping her tears. "It's not ok, Tony. Don't you dare tell me it is. We were going to have THIS one!_"_ He nodded slowly, allowing her to look at the tears glistening in his own eyes. "I know, sweetheart."_ He had been arrested less than two months afterwards.

Tony swallowed hard, forcing his attention back to the computer. The months in solitary had taken their toll; he found it hard to remain focused. The slightest sound or smell drew him back into the past and several minutes would elapse before he realized his slip.

_Easy, Almeida. You done it, you're in. Now go grab your coffee and settle down!_ He returned to the kitchen, opened the cupboard door and withdrew the Cubs mug, filling it with Colombian coffee. Sipping the scalding liquid, he returned to the office, sitting at the desk. Trembling fingers typed in the date the ship was blown up, seeking any mention of it in the hours preceding the disaster. As he expected, he came across the name in both naval archives and Intelligence. One of the departments had a mole; he just needed to decide which one to investigate first. Aware that his time might be limited and that the navy almost certainly carried out their own detailed investigation he focused his search on Intelligence instead.

Several coffees later he had narrowed down his search significantly. There were two assistant directors he suspected, one with a naval background who had been stationed at the blown up port just ten years prior to the incident, a certain Gerald Thomas – the other David Lachlan, a former intelligence agent at the US embassy of the country in question with a perfect knowledge of Arabic and a degree in contemporary religions, whose thesis discussed the Koran.

Tony yawned and decided to take a short break, having spent the previous four hours studying the monitor. He opened the sliding door and stepped into the garden, resting his eyes on the neat path and perfect lawn Michelle liked, before wandering towards the back. The first tiny shoots were pushing through the ground in his new vegetable patch. Tony bent closer, noticing snail damage. He unlocked the shed and poured a liberal dose of pallets round the patch, remembering his grandfather's constant battle with them in Chicago. _"Abuelo, look, they're moving. They're kinda cute, don't you think?" His grandfather had groaned aloud, examining the snail he held in his palm. "Si they're moving, Antonio! They're all coming to join their relatives to ruin everything we have planted. Run to the shed and get me the snail pallets would you? They're on the second shelf near the door."_

The winter sun had already lost its warmth as he turned on the hose and watered his patch. Taking a final look to check all in the garden was fine he returned to the kitchen, running warm water over his hands. The oven clock showed him it was 5:40. Tony climbed the stairs and walked into the master bedroom, hunting for a sweater. It was winter after all, he noted, much as he hated the season and attempted to deny its presence by wearing t-shirts. His favorite grey sweater lay in his top drawer; slightly out of shape but as warm as ever. He slipped it on, feeling better instantly.

Tony settled back in front of the computer, unable to decide which man to investigate further. After a moment of deep thought he pulled up their files and studied their photos, searching their eyes. Two bureaucrats looked out at him, both with receding hair lines and hard eyes. An image of Chappelle filled his mind which he firmly pushed away, ordering himself to focus. Which man was guilty? Both shared a no-nonsense expression, both wore grey suits; they were about the same height. _Stop wasting time, Almeida! Pick a guy!_ He stared at them again, recalling his days at the military academy. _"Sometimes there's no logical reason for unease. If you're out in hostile territory and you sense a trap, go with your instincts, you've been given them for a reason! Now Almeida, tell me which building you think the snipers are sheltering behind. Get it right, your men will live. Get it wrong, you've wiped everyone out!"_

Tony decided the former intelligence worker at the embassy was too obvious; he would examine the naval officer first. He typed in the man's name and attempted to get beyond the basic biographical page. If he was to have any success he needed to check the man's diary for the day, as well his calls. The phone company proved simple enough to hack into, he had done so before for Jack several years ago when he worked under Nina. There was an outgoing call to Kuwait fifteen minutes before the explosion, but the number proved to belong to an oil company. Tony rubbed his face, determined to investigate further. Taking a deep breath he hacked into Thomas' personal files, aware of the risk he was running. Technology had changed since his arrest, new safeguards were in place.

Totally absorbed in his task, he searched the man's files, frustrated by the amount of intel received from Kuwait that passed his way. Slightly bolder, he typed in a search for the name of the ship, seeing it mentioned three times. The first file mentioned the ship in a list of others taking part in the war games. Tony clicked on the second file.

A faint breeze moved the blinds for a fraction of a second, causing him to freeze. Eyes narrowed, he rose from the desk and crept to the office door. The family room was silent, its sliding door partially open in the same position he left it in. Tony paused, instincts on full alert. A draught required two open windows, and he had certainly locked the front door behind him. Biting his lip he crept into the family room, peering into the corridor. All was silent, the front door locked as before. He crept into the hall, working his way noiselessly up the stairs, resolved to collect his gun from the master bedroom's closet. All was silent at the top of the landing. Tony remained pressed against the banisters, straining his ears to pick up any sound. Had he imagined the entire incident? No, he was certain the blinds had moved. Had there been a stronger gust than normal? He decided it was possible. Slowly he straightened and walked across the landing, opening the bedroom's door.

A sound from the landing forced him to freeze. Someone was definitely out there. Tony turned noiselessly, peering outside. Cold metal pressed against his temple from behind, and an arm grabbed his. 'One movement, you're dead,' a voice hissed in his ear. Tony swung away from the gun, being tripped seconds later by a second assailant hidden behind his bed. He fell to the floor stunned, throwing out an arm to break his fall, pushing himself up the instant he landed, even as his mind screamed it was too late.

Two more men raced into the room, pinning him to the ground. Tony struggled valiantly despite the gun at his temple, doubting they would fire at him - overwhelmed by his captors' sheer numbers. One of his arms was dragged out from underneath his stomach and twisted behind his back, held secure by a man who sat on him. He kicked the man furiously; aware his right arm was taken, pulled so hard it dislocated. A scream rose from his throat as the injured arm as pulled backwards mercilessly and a cold cuff was placed round his wrist. Moments later a second cuff was secured round his left wrist and it was locked, tightened painfully.

'Prisoner secure,' said a voice, and Tony was hauled to his feet, struggling to focus through the waves of pain in his shoulder.

Agent Castle moved before him, examining him critically. 'Almeida, you're under arrest. I won't give you any crap about your rights, you ain't got any! Try anything at all, I WILL shoot you.'

'I haven't done anything.' Tony began, outraged. 'Get the hell outta my house!'

The man behind him gave him a tremendous push and he stumbled forward. 'Bring the computer,' Castle instructed another man who had obviously entered the house from the sliding door. 'Mr. Hammond wants to see it. You'll get your chance to protest when you see Mr. Hammond,' he told Tony, before turning to another man. 'Is the house secure? I want all the doors and windows locked; I don't want the neighbors seeing anything! It's imperative Almeida is interrogated before his wife can raise hell.'

'Sir, his car is in the garage,' an agent told him, while Tony was pushed down the stairs.

'Bring it. And for God's sake someone clean the kitchen. Come on, let's move.'

'Sir, I can't override the security on the car. I need the keys,' the young agent told him, returning moments later.

Castle waved a hand and the two men pulling him stopped, pushing Tony against a wall. 'Where are the keys, Almeida?'

Tony pressed his lips together, breathing through the agony in his right shoulder. Fury at having his home invaded and fear of his situation surged through him, causing his heart to hammer against his ribs.

'I won't ask nicely a second time, Almeida. Where the hell did you put your car keys?' Castle waited a couple of seconds before hissing in annoyance. Wordless, he grabbed Tony's right arm, jerking it lower. Damaged muscles tore as he screamed aloud, collapsing against the wall. 'Search through the jackets,' Castle instructed, giving up on getting an answer from his prisoner. 'Take him to the van.'

Four armed agents escorted him through the front door and into a blue van. He was pushed into a back seat, his feet shackled to two iron rings on the floor while his body was restrained by a leather strap, immobilizing him against the seat.

Tony was in too much pain to put up more than a token resistance as all four men climbed in beside him and Michelle's computer was placed on the front seat. 'Alright, let's go.' The van moved off, and he turned to glance back at his house, struggling to breathe. _You've been caught, Almeida! Someone noticed you hacking in! And that someone might be a little hard to placate, seeing how he had you brought in! You're in real trouble_. He chewed his upper lip, staring in silence at his feet shackled to the floor. _Oh God, what have I done? They're going to send me back to prison. _The breath caught in his throat and he struggled to breathe, feeling pure panic take hold of him. _Easy Almeida, you can explain_. He struggled to calm himself. Sure he would explain, but would anyone listen? They had to; they were the counter terrorist unit, after all! Whether or not they believed his suspicions they were duty bound to investigate. The setting sun blinded him as it shone onto his face.

The van drew up outside a tall office block with black windows. Tony was hauled out and led through the back door into Division, surrounded by six security guards. The end of a long corridor which he had never examined in all his previous visits to the place led them to the main floor, and he was pushed over to a door a few feet away. Steps led downwards. He fought against his dread. They were going to the interrogation area, the securest part of the building. This was certainly not the part where cooperative witnesses were questioned, but the rooms used for hard-core terrorists. He had heard rumors of what interrogations in the bowels of Division consisted of and had dismissed them as unrealistic. His heart pounded harder as he reached the bottom of the steps, emerging into a subterranean corridor. Grey unpainted concrete met his eyes, lit by bright neon lights high above him. Cameras occupied every corner. Tony shut his eyes momentarily, fighting dizziness caused by his aching shoulder.

A security guard pulled out a key and moved forward, unlocking a solid steel door. Another guard pulled an access card through a slot and the door swung open. Two men moved ahead and Tony was pushed through behind them, followed by the remaining four. They led him along a wide corridor decorated only by solid grey doors. He was pulled up before the fourth door and a guard unlocked it. 'Move it,' ordered a security guard, giving him a vicious shove as he remained at the threshold, unable to bring himself to enter.

Tony stumbled inside, hearing the door slam behind him. He turned immediately, kicking it. 'Hey, my handcuffs! You're supposed to take them off, right?' Silence greeted him. Enraged, he kicked the door again, before turning to examine the holding room. It was meager, concrete floor and walls and a steel table and chairs bolted into the floor. The fourth wall consisted of solid glass through which he was unable to see. They would be observing him from behind it, gauging his reactions. He pressed his lips together and settled on a chair, pulling his impenetrable mask on. They would arrive to question him in half an hour or so, he imagined, leaving him to stew for a while.

True to his expectations the door was unlocked half an hour later. Tony glanced up from the table and watched two security guards enter, followed by Brad Hammond. He drew a deep breath, unsure whether Hammond's arrival meant he would genuinely be questioned, or whether the man's obvious antipathy towards him caused him to be selected.

'Almeida,' Hammond began, without any further greeting.

'Mr. Hammond,' Tony replied, relieved to hear his voice sounded firm.

'Sit down,' Hammond ordered, a smug look filling his bulldog face. Tony sat down, nodding his head behind him. 'Don't bother to ask me to remove those, it won't happen,' Hammond said, sitting opposite him. 'Is there anything you need to tell me, Almeida?'

'Yes sir,' Tony agreed. 'My shoulder was dislocated during my arrest. I need to see a medic now; I won't be able to stay conscious much longer.'

'That'll depend on what kind of cooperation I'll get,' Hammond told him, placing a tape recorder on the table. 'I wanna know exactly how long you've been selling information to this country's most dangerous enemies.' He gave Tony another hard look and pressed the recorder on.

'What?' Tony gasped, unable to believe the question. He had expected to be taken to task for hacking into District's files, possibly prosecuted for accessing classified information. He gazed at Hammond, shocked. 'You can't be serious, Brad!'

Hammond pointed silently to the tape. 'I suggest you start telling me everything, Almeida. You don't really wanna know what we're capable of!'


	3. Meet Morris

Blinding light directed onto the table showed every scratch on the surface, running in zigzags round the tape recorder. Tony stared at them mesmerized, struggling to collect his thoughts. Opposite him Hammond tapped a pen against the table, impatient for the recording to begin. Two security guards stood inside the room along the wall behind Tony, watching him for the slightest movement. The tape recorder's gentle hum was the only other audible sound in the room.

'Mr. Hammond, I done wrong, I'll admit it, ok? I hacked into District's files, I used Michelle's password to get inside in the first place, but that's all I done! There's a mole in the higher echelons, I was trying to figure out who it could be.' He fell silent, raising his eyes to glance at the man opposite him. 'You know me, Brad! I'd NEVER betray this country.'

Hammond snorted, shifting on his chair. 'You already did, Almeida! I was there, remember? You'd still be in jail if President Palmer hadn't pardoned you in a moment of weakness!'

Tony swallowed bile down, leaning his elbows on the table. 'You know I did what I did to protect Michelle. For God's sake, her life was in danger. I meant to capture Saunders myself, I had my gun! I didn't work with him voluntarily; I never worked with ANY terrorist. You know me better than that.'

'I know you, alright! You got sent down unfairly, as you saw it, and you turned against this country the moment you were released, to try and obtain a little revenge for your hard time in prison.'

'No,' Tony whispered, shaking his head.

'And so you sold confidential military information to the most violent group on this planet. You done so because you knew they'd be the only group capable of attacking us. You want to see us hurt now.'

'Mr. Hammond, that's not true,' Tony exclaimed, his shoulder aching. 'I never had any contact with terrorists. I was looking for a mole who sold information to the terrorists about the exact location of the USS Stormwater. Dammit, I found all twenty guys who were responsible for the explosion! Doesn't that say anything to you?' He raised his head, fighting his pain, unable to comprehend Hammond's position.

'You gave us 20 names of low ranking men,' Hammond agreed, 'diverting suspicion from your other activities.'

'I was IN PRISON when I gave you those names,' Tony yelled, struggling to contain his outrage. He took a deep breath, aware of the need to remain calm. 'I didn't get as much as a thank you note for my information that led to their capture. I sure as hell didn't benefit in any way. And I wasn't able to do anything suspicious, locked away there.'

Hammond nodded grimly. 'Maybe not then, but you used your time well, Almeida. We know you studied Arabic, in preparation for joining some militants.'

'I had the choice to study something, so I picked Arabic to help track terrorists, should I ever be released,' Tony protested.

Hammond got up and wandered round the room, while Tony stared back at the table. 'All that's immaterial. I wanna know exactly what you sold to Islamic militants over these weeks, Almeida. Stormwater might have been an incident, though no evidence was ever found of any link. Since you've been released two vital pieces of intelligence have fallen into terrorist hands, causing several lives. You will hang for it, Almeida. No one will show you mercy a second time. Now if you admit everything freely and show us just how badly we're compromised, you might cut a deal.'

'"A deal?"' Tony echoed.

'Yeah, you'd possibly avoid the death penalty. You'd get away with a life sentence.'

'Gee, what a deal,' Tony muttered. 'I'm sorry, Brad, I doubt whether anyone would take that. Anyway, I didn't sell any information, so you'd do better to find out who the mole really is, because he sure as hell sold information about the USS Stormwater's movements on the day of the explosions. Think, how else could the terrorists in the port know…'

'I've heard enough, Almeida,' snapped Hammond. 'That case is CLOSED. Now shut up and answer my questions accurately. What was the first piece of information you sold to the militants and when?'

Tony shook his head, disgusted. 'You're not really listening, Brad. I just told you, I never dealt with them. I hacked in today to look for the mole.'

Hammond reached over to switch off the tape recorder. 'I'll give you exactly five minutes to consider your situation, Tony,' he said, getting up. 'If at the end of that time you still refuse to cooperate, you'll get to meet a certain specialist you'll remember for the rest of your sorry life.' He left the room followed by the two security guards, leaving Tony alone with his thoughts.

_God help me. They're aware District's been compromised, and instead of searching all employees they wanna pin it on me! Just because I hacked in, just because they sent me to prison. They're convinced I blamed them for that, that I want revenge, but I don't! I did wrong, I deserved what I got, and it wasn't their fault that life inside was pure hell._ His head sank lower onto his left arm as he chewed his lip_. They're not gonna believe anything I say, coz they're already convinced they caught their guy. They're gonna hurt you real bad, Almeida, and if you survive it, they'll take you right back to prison_. Sweat trickled down his forehead at the thought of being escorted through the double steel doors of LA Federal. Icy shivers ran down his spine, whether from the agony in his shoulder or his fear he couldn't tell_. I can't go back to prison!_

The door opened again, revealing Hammond and the two guards, followed by a silent man carrying a black box. 'You never met Morris.' Hammond switched on the tape again, glancing at Tony meaningfully. 'Alright, it's 18:56 and I'm continuing my interview with Antonio Almeida. Morris is with me. When did you first contact the terrorists?' Hammond began.

'I NEVER contacted any kind of terrorists,' Tony replied hotly, gazing at the solid glass. Someone was behind it, watching him, someone who held as much power over the next few minutes as Hammond did, someone who would need convincing of his innocence.

'He's all yours, Morris,' Hammond sighed, pulling out his chair. 'Restrain the prisoner.' The two guards moved over to Tony, one shackling his ankles to the chair, the other securing his cuffs to the back of the chair with a second handcuff. Tony sat immobile, aware any struggle would result in harsher treatment. Despite himself his eyes roamed over the table, noting Morris opening the black case. A row of needles caught his eye. A vial lay beside them, containing a colorless liquid. A smaller vial lay beside it, the truth serum. He found himself praying he would escape with a shot of that.

Morris placed his hand inside the bag, removing electrodes. Tony gazed at the table, sickened_. Oh no, they can't!_ 'Roll up his sleeve.' A guard pushed his sweater up his left arm.

'Just talk when you're ready, Almeida,' Hammond told him, nodding his head at Morris. 'Begin.'

Tony watched horrified as the electrodes charged, beeping. Morris lifted two electrodes, placing them just above his elbow. Fiery heat burned through the arm, while he jerked involuntarily in the chair, beside himself with pain. After an eternity they were replaced in the charger. Tony slumped against the back of the chair, shaking.

'That was a little taste of what awaits you,' Hammond informed him. 'You sure you want to continue, Almeida?'

'No. Please don't.' Tony forced his voice to steady. 'Give me a polygraph; give me the truth serum, please.'

'You've been trained to beat both,' Hammond reminded him. 'Now what was the first piece of intel you sold?'

Tony squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, unable to watch the electrodes charging. 'For God's sake, Brad, I didn't sell anything to anyone! I can't tell you what I haven't done! Do you really want me to make something up?'

'I want the truth,' Hammond snapped. He nodded his head at Morris. The whine intensified, and he removed the electrodes. Once again they were pressed against his arm, sending fire rushing along the nerves to his shoulder. He was reminded of a time he burned his arm in the kitchen, only this was a hundred times worse, traveling up his entire arm, while he was unable to jerk it free.

His head slumped forward when the electrodes were removed and he rested silently, struggling to get his breathing under control. _Easy, Almeida. They'll keep this up a while longer. You're gonna have to take it. You can do it._

Hammond shook his head once Tony was able to raise his eyes. 'I got all night, so does Morris. Spare yourself further pain, keeping silent won't help you. You'll break in the end, you know it too. Everyone has a breaking point, and you appear close to yours. The longer you keep silent the less likelihood you got of cutting a deal. He's ready.'

Tony shook his head, denied the opportunity of defending himself before the electrodes were returned. He pressed his eyes shut, picturing a large wave bearing down on him. _'OK, Almeida, this one's gonna get you. It'll knock you round a bit, drag you under, slam you against the ground, but you'll swim up and escape through the water tunnel_. He heard someone moaning but lacked the time to examine who else suffered along with him, as he fought to reach the surface and escape the wave.

Head slumped forward; he fought for air, coughing his lungs out. His body shook against the restraints as instinct took over and he attempted to rise.

'Where do you imagine you're going?' Hammond asked him, examining the tape recorder. 'We haven't begun our conversation yet.'

'Mr. Hammond, please listen. I didn't sell anything to anyone. Why won't you check out my leads? At least check them out, and if you don't get anything you can come question me again.'

Hammond snorted. 'And give you a chance to think up some crap to delay us further? No way Almeida, you'll tell me what I need to know tonight. Take it to the next level,' he instructed the silent Morris.

Tony felt himself pulled backwards, his back pressed into the chair. The hum of the electrodes intensified, signaling its readiness. Morris laid them on either side of his neck, pressing them to his skin. The largest wave in the world caught Tony, curling over him, submerging him and tossing him around like a cloth in a washing machine. His mouth opened to breathe but nothing entered, leaving his lungs screaming for air. It came in shaky jerks when he finally fought his way to the surface. Once his tortured lungs managed to get enough air he heard the intense whine from the table, resembling 10 000 mosquitoes locked into a room with him. His body shook uncontrollably as he was once again pulled backwards, before he had a chance to even open his eyes. Another wave washed over him, dragging him deeper... lower… slamming him repeatedly against the seafloor. He opened his mouth for air, but fire entered instead, burning him from within. Tony's head slumped forward while the shock continued.

'I just said no,' a voice said, close beside him. 'He's too weak to continue. Do you want to kill him or question him? I doubt whether he's much use to you dead.'

Tony rested his head against the chair, struggling to open his eyes. 'Alright, thank you Morris, we'll continue this later. Thank you, doctor.'

'I'm not done yet. I presume you wish the prisoner to live till the morning?' Tony's right sleeve was pulled up and his arm examined with interest. 'Why has the prisoner's shoulder been dislocated? I'll have to set that; he really needs to go to medical.'

'Do what you have to here,' Hammond snapped. 'This man is staying down here, he's extremely dangerous.'

The doctor remained silent, before giving him a shot. Tony felt a little warmth spread through his chilled body and was able to force his eyes open moments later. 'I'll need him on the table,' the doctor continued, and Hammond waved a hand. His cuffs were removed and he was lifted on the table by the two guards, held immobile while the doctor tugged his shoulder back into place. Once again he screamed, lingering between reality and darkness. Reality won, and he opened his eyes again, seeing the doctor leave the room.

'Alright, Almeida, you're stubborn, I'll grant you that,' Hammond told him. 'Don't imagine you got away this lightly, we'll continue this first thing tomorrow. Now I'm off to my office and you... let me see, we can't leave you wandering round the cell unrestrained. You learned too much from all those scum in the prison. I want him shackled to that pipe,' he told the guards, who dragged Tony off the table and over to a corner of the room. A solid pipe entered the room from the floor above and continued below him. His arms were twisted behind the pipe and cuffs were tightened round them.

Hammond knocked his hand against the pipe, nodding in satisfaction. 'That won't give for the next century or so, Almeida, you'll be quite secure. Goodnight!' They exited the room, slamming the door behind them.

Tony leaned against the pipe, wishing it were wider so his back would be supported. His head spun, he allowed it to fall forwards on his chest. Unable to find a comfortable spot he tried sliding forwards, but his arms fastened behind the pipe prevented him from lying on the floor. Eventually he gave up and wriggled closer to the pipe, leaning against it.

His door opened. He dared allow himself to hope the nightmare was over and he was being released, but the four guards who entered carried only a jug of water and two tablets.

'Doctor gave you some painkillers,' one commented in a flat tone. He filled an orange plastic cup with water and held it up to Tony's mouth, tilting it so he could drink. He swallowed the tablets down and drank the rest of the water. Without commenting the guard refilled the cup and held it up in front of him. Exhausted, Tony drank every drop.

'Thank you,' he said softly, grateful. He felt battered and torn apart and would have been unable to manage any food, but he had been terribly thirsty. They left him alone with his thoughts. Tony tried shuffling a little closer to the pipe, seeking a less uncomfortable spot. He forced himself to stay awake, to ponder his situation, which was bleak. How in the world could he convince Hammond to examine his evidence? How could someone with a closed mind be forced to "see"? He had no idea, but he struggled with plan after plan, casting them aside as useless. Unless someone different came to interrogate him the following day, he would end up in Division's morgue.

A couple of hours later he stirred restlessly, seeking the camera mounted opposite him. 'Please could someone take me to the bathroom?' he asked, hating the need to ask but unable to wait much longer. The red light blinked as he moved, attempting to stand. Several minutes passed without anyone opening the door. 'Come on, how much trouble can that be,' Tony remarked, standing up with difficulty. His door remained locked, the silence relentless. He kicked the pipe in desperation. 'Come on Brad, don't do this,' he begged. 'There's no point. There's a bathroom down this corridor, it's absolutely secure. I really gotta go.'

After a while he settled back on the ground, desperate to find a tolerable position. The night stretched ahead of him, filled with pain and fear. Craning his head and pulling his arms high he attempted to peer at his watch. It was slightly after midnight. _Oh mom, you'll be beside yourself by now. Dinner would've been ready hours ago. _He kicked the pipe harder, hearing the echo in the empty room. 'Dammit Brad, I need a phone call. My parents will raise hell if I'm missing.' If he hadn't worked at CTU he might have been fooled into thinking the camera was unmonitored, for the lack of attention paid him. In despair he sank back down again. It was clear he was to be ignored that night, and that order had to come from someone higher up. He chewed his lip in fury, calculating the hours remaining till morning. When would they feed him? Six o'clock? Seven?

'Where's Tony?' his mother inquired, laying her bag on the couch. 'I thought he'd have warmed up the dinner by now. Sorry I'm so late, it was an awful day.'

Mr. Almeida glanced up from the newspaper he had been attempting to read. 'I don't know. Was he supposed to come home?'

His wife cast him an alarmed look. 'Sure he was. He said he'd be here.' She looked around unhappily.

'Sweetheart, he might have met a friend. It's not late, and he's an adult.'

'He would've called,' she insisted, staring at the phone. 'It's not flashing, he didn't leave a message. Tony never let us down before, Marco.'

His father got up and slipped his arms round her. 'Maybe he had a drink,' he said softly.

'No,' she exclaimed, pushing herself away from him. 'Tony wouldn't have done that without letting us know. He's still got that cold; he'd have come home early. And he doesn't need a drink, he's fine!'

His father shook his head slowly. 'He's not exactly "fine" yet, sweetheart. He was really struggling last night. Where did he say he'd go?'

'To the beach, and then over to his house. He needed to check something on Michelle's computer.'

Mr. Almeida grabbed his keys wordless.

'Marco, where are you going?' his wife called, hurrying after him.

'Over to the house. He might be asleep, he was tired, and he's not well yet.'

She caught up with him by the car. 'You don't really believe that, Marco, or you wouldn't go over there. You're worried too. I'm coming with you.'

'Now Rita,' he told her gently, opening the door for her, aware she never listened to him. 'He's probably fine.' They drove in silence for a while before he sighed deeply. 'I just wish he would've listened to me and left that damn computer alone!'

Tony's mother shuddered, taking his hand, feeling his reassuring squeeze moments later.


	4. Further Interrogation

Tony woke with a shudder, his head slipping lower. His throat throbbed and he coughed, moving his hand automatically to cover his mouth. A clang startled him, and his hand was pulled up short. Frightened, he opened his eyes, noticing grey concrete around him. Grey wall, grey floor, blinding light burning in the ceiling… 'Oh God,' he breathed, as events of the previous day came back to him. He swallowed in a vain attempt to soothe his throat, wandering why it hurt him again. His body ached, starting with his shoulder which throbbed the moment it brushed against the cold pipe. He felt weak and drained, and there was a terrible pressure on his stomach. Moaning slightly as he moved, he turned his head to examine his watch. 5:32 in the morning, no wander he was so cold and stiff. Once again he gazed at the camera and begged to be taken to the bathroom.

_It's no use, Almeida. The same guy must still be on duty. His shift should end soon._ He rested his head against the pipe, telling himself they would bring him breakfast and take him outside by 7:00. _Just wait another two hours, you can do it. You have to do it!_

7:00 o'clock passed, and 8:00. Tony woke to another coughing fit, horrified to discover he sat in a cooling puddle. 'Oh God,' he whispered under his breath, his face turning red with shame. What in the world would they say to him, when his breakfast arrived? By 10:00 he had given up caring about it, wondering dully whether anyone would come at all that day. Hammond might well have decided he was too weak to 'question' any further and settled for a day of sensory deprivation instead. He was certain of it by noon.

Tony sat in silence, his impassive mask on his face, unsure whether he welcomed or dreaded his door opening. Would his questioning continue, or had they given up all hope of gaining anything useful from him? Would he be hauled away to federal prison when someone came next? An icy shiver ran down his spine as he remembered the doors closing behind him. No, he wouldn't go there at any cost. He really couldn't!

_Better think of something fast then, Almeida. The way this is going, that's exactly where you'll end up tomorrow, if not today. They're gonna lock you up until your trial, at which point their lawyers will come testify against you, and you'll be sentenced to death. You got nothing to lose, running for it, at the worst they'll shoot you on the spot, which is far preferable to facing an execution_. He longed to rub his face. Just yesterday he had eaten a late breakfast with his mother, and today his life was ruined. _Your fault entirely, Almeida. So there's still a terrorist or two at large, is it really your business to track them down? Why couldn't you just leave it alone?_

Whatever would his parents be thinking? 'They're gonna be hysterical by now,' he muttered to himself, testing his cuffs against the pipe. It held firmly. Tony swore under his breath, wishing he could call them to explain.

* * *

Tony's mother laid the phone down a lot harder than she intended, startling his father who finished a mug of coffee in the kitchen. He glanced at her and she shook her head. 'No luck. I just don't understand why she doesn't have her cell with her. Young people always do!'

'Maybe that man you spoke to was telling the truth,' Mr. Almeida said mildly. 'She's out on a long case and cannot be contacted.'

Tony's mother glared at him. '"Cannot be contacted!"' she echoed. 'What does that mean? I'm SURE he could contact her. All I wanted was to pass a message to her. God I hate these bureaucrats. They forget they live from our tax dollars!'

'Now sweetheart, you got to try and relax,' he told her, getting up. 'I'll call you from the office.'

She stared at him horrified before she shook her head. 'You're not going to work today, Marco, I know you too well. You're just as worried about Tony as I am. You got an idea, and you wanted to check it out alone.'

He sighed heavily, avoiding her eyes. 'It's not much of an idea, sweetheart. I just thought I'd look round the house again; see if I missed something in the dark. Why don't you relax and…'

'Relax!' She stared at him amazed. 'How do you think I can do that? Tony's in trouble, I can feel it. I won't sit around and wait. I'm going to go to the beach, see if I can find anything. He was going there first.'

'Good idea,' he told her, kissing her. 'I'll call you.'

* * *

It was cold in the holding room. Tony pushed his arms as close to his ribs as he could in a vain attempt to warm himself. He rested his head on his left shoulder, slightly soothed by the familiar grey sweater against his cheek. It was made of thick soft wool and had Michelle's scent in it as he had worn it so often in the evenings while he cuddled up to her watching the TV. She had teased him about it mercilessly during the first year of their marriage. 'It's a little old, sweetheart. Why won't you get another one?' He had laughed it off, explaining how he like that one, and that there really was nothing wrong with it. 'It's too thick, Tony. Where do you think this apartment is - LA or Anchorage?' He had laughed with her, pulling her close for a kiss, but the reality was that he really detested the cold.

The chill of the hard concrete floor seeped into his bones. Slowly he pushed his legs towards his body and attempted to stand, noting how cramped they were. It took several attempts before his knees would bend, several more before they could be persuaded to take his weight. Tony stood up, leaning against the pipe, glancing round the holding room. The bare table and chairs, the locked door, the dull concrete all served to remind him of the Special Housing Unit, the prison within a prison where he had been less than a month before. His eyes closed in despair.

His sharp hearing heard movement moments before his door was unlocked, giving him time to straighten and pull his disinterested mask on. Two guards entered, followed by Hammond who stopped short at the sight that met his eyes. 'Clean him up and move him to Holding 2,' he ordered the security guards. He stared at Tony in disgust for a second before he exited the room, leaving the guards to unlock his cuffs.

'Stop. Face the wall.' A guard cuffed Tony's wrist to his own, whilst his partner laid a stun baton to his neck. 'Move down the corridor to your right.'

Face burning, Tony moved to his right, walking slowly to the end of the short corridor. The door was unlocked and he found himself inside a bathroom, where he was released and ordered to strip. Few showers felt as good as that one, as he turned the hot water tap full on and stood under the steam. He was left undisturbed while he washed, the security guards watching him directly in front of the door. One spoke into his radio, the words lost in cascading water. Presently the door opened again and two more security guards entered, one carrying a towel, the other some clothes. One guard ordered him out sternly and all watched as he rubbed himself dry.

'Get dressed,' snapped a guard and Tony pulled the fresh underwear on, examining a plain blue t-shirt and faded pair of jeans. He dressed slowly, aware Hammond's interrogation awaited him. Turning his back on the guards he pulled his sweater from the pile of discarded clothing.

'You don't need any of those things, prisoner. Let's move.'

Tony ignored the order, pulling his sweater on. 'It's clean,' he said softly.

'Alright, whatever. Hands behind your back.' Once again he was cuffed to the same guard, led back along the corridor and pushed into the holding room opposite the one he had spent the night in. He was ordered to sit and watched silently as his feet were shackled to the chair. The security guards left without any further explanations and he laid his elbows on the table, burying his head in his hands. It was all about to begin again, and he doubted whether he would last more than a few minutes. Somehow he had to escape while he still had the strength to move, but it would be hard. He would have to get out of his holding room, unlock the steel door at the end of the corridor, run upstairs onto the main floor of Division and rush down the corridor to the back door, the closest exit - followed by dozens of cameras. Tony rubbed his head to calm himself, knowing the odds against such a plan succeeding.

Once again the door opened and two guards entered, laying the tape recorder on the table. Hammond followed, sitting opposite him. 'I'm continuing the interrogation of Antonio Almeida. It's 15:03.' He glanced at Tony, shaking his head. 'You lack shame, Almeida! Now you've held us up long enough. Tell me all about your double dealing, and you'll be fed and can make your phone call.'

'I have the right to a lawyer,' Tony stated, his eyes meeting Hammond's.

The man shook his head. 'Not under the Homeland Security Act you don't. Not in this case. Your lawyer can try get you a life sentence later, after we know how badly we've been compromised. Right now that is my prime goal, to discover just how many codes we need to change.'

'You need to change all of them and some personnel too,' Tony stated, his voice unwavering. 'You know that too, Mr. Hammond. Some part of you must suspect you got a leak. Sir, you're a highly experienced agent. You don't trust me, that's your prerogative, but you're trained to follow every lead. I'm not lying to you.'

'We are checking your leads, Almeida, but they don't add up. The two agents you suspected are highly decorated men, both devoting their lives to the interests of this country! Which is more than I can say about you.' He gave Tony a hard look which he met steadily. 'You betrayed us all the moment your interests were threatened. Almeida, you might as well confess everything; you're not doing yourself any favor keeping silent. Your illegal hacking into District is enough to get you a life sentence – if you confess the rest of your crimes freely it won't add anything further to that.'

Tony swallowed, the room swaying around him. He HAD hacked in; aware it was an illegal act. Was it really an offence punishable by life imprisonment, when he was so clearly on the tracks of a dangerous mole?

'Almeida, I'm waiting. Tell us about your dealings with terrorists.'

Tony slammed his fist into the table, frustrated. 'Dammit, Brad, I already told you a dozen times, I NEVER dealt with any. You just promised me a life sentence whatever happens next, so why would I keep silent? You think I wanna get "questioned" again?'

Hammond shrugged. 'I think you're protecting someone else, giving them time to cover their tracks,' he stated. 'You're no fool. Now are you gonna start telling me what I need to know, or shall I call Morris?'

Tony gazed into the pitiless eyes. 'Call him,' he said firmly, refusing to show a hint of fear.

* * *

'You know my son?' Tony's mother asked, holding out a small photo. The man behind the counter at the beach café nodded immediately. 'Yes ma'am, I sure do! He was supposed to be here for lunch.'

She leaned against the counter, putting the photo back into her bag. 'Was he here yesterday?' she asked, hopefully.

'Sure he was, ma'am. And he was supposed to be here today too, to meet up with Koskinen.'

Tony's mother ran the name over in her head, aware she had heard it before. 'The sergeant?' she asked.

'Yes ma'am. That's him right there. The lieutenant seemed pretty keen on catching up with him after all these years, see, so we can't figure out why he failed to show.'

Tony's mother ran a hand over her face, longing to leave the café and cry. Instead she drew a deep breath and faced a tall golden haired man who appeared before her.

'Ma'am, I'm Eino Koskinen, I served under your son in the Gulf,' he stated. 'Lieutenant Almeida never failed to show unless he was unable to do so. I take it he's missing?'

She looked into the calm grey eyes, trusting him instinctively. 'Yeah, since yesterday lunch.'

'He was going to go back his house for a bit,' Ray told her, hurrying away to serve other customers.

'Ma'am, why don't we take a walk outside,' Koskinen told her, leading her out of the crowded café onto the beach. 'Last I heard of the lieutenant, he caught all the guys responsible for the port explosions. He's a real hero, never left any situation till it was totally secure. You could trust him with your life. We never left an area till he was sure no snipers remained, no explosives, nothing.'

Tony's mother wiped her eyes, gazing into the choppy ocean. 'He wasn't finished with something now either,' she said slowly. 'He just wouldn't let go.'

They walked further along the beach, the man beside her absolutely silent. "He doesn't talk much." "He's a real decent guy, he saved my life." Strong surf battered the shore and she pulled her coat tighter around her. 'He had a tough year,' she said unhappily, aware of the need to speak.

Koskinen nodded. 'Yeah, he did. He saved his wife and got sent down for treason, letting down the nation.' He laughed bitterly, kicking sand with his shoe. 'I wanted to testify, but they refused. What would they know, anyway, about protecting the nation? They gave Almeida every shit problem around, and he dealt with it all. He was the best sniper available, and they sure considered him expendable. Sometimes they sent him in alone, to take someone out…It was all classified.' Tony's mother listened in silence, aware of the need to keep him talking. 'Once we got surrounded by militants, Almeida stayed to provide us cover, offer a distraction and we got away. We got backup and returned two hours later. They didn't treat him too well. Quacks managed to put him together in the hospital.'

'I didn't know about that,' she said, fighting back fresh tears.

'It was all classified. He never even got a medal, they said he should've sacrificed a couple of us instead, but he'd never do that. He had this sense of responsibility no one else did.'

Tony's mother drew a deep breath, gazing at the silent man. 'He was searching for more terrorists responsible for the bombing. Someone here, in the States. He said something about timing, phoning info across.'

Koskinen's face paled. He muttered a few words in a language she couldn't place before turning to face her. 'It makes sense. Someone had to let the men at the port know when the ship would return. The lieutenant was after someone high up, and they might have discovered that. He'll be in real deep shit. I got someone I can call, find out something.' He lowered his voice. 'If he has ANY friends who worked with him, ask them to help. He'll need it.'

* * *

'You sure you wanna keep silent, Almeida?' pressed the second agent who had entered the room half an hour before. 'All we need to know is what intel you passed.'

Hammond snorted indignantly. 'Don't tell me you're growing soft, Edwards? He's obviously wasting time to allow his contacts to escape.'

'They would've had plenty of time by now,' Edwards muttered. 'I'm calling the doctor, he doesn't look good.' He left the room; leaving Tony slumped across the table they had strapped him against.

'Keep going Morris, he's close now,' Hammond ordered, and the electrodes whined again. Tony strained against the straps, tossing his head from side to side, beside himself with pain. He had to leave, he would tear his bonds off, couldn't they tell he knew nothing? Once again the electrodes were placed on his stomach, and the fire burned inside him.

The door opened again, he heard people entering thought his eyes refused to open. They obviously came to hurt him, to tell Morris to continue, to yell at him, refusing to give him five minutes to think up a story he could admit to. Something was placed against his chest and he strained against the straps, unable to face further pain. 'Easy,' said a voice, pushing him down. 'This man needs immediate treatment.'

Hammond argued with the new arrival while Tony lay on the table, unable to utter a sound. 'He won't last another shot, Mr. Hammond. His heart is fluttering, are you aware of what that means?'

'Damn it. It's now 18:14, and the interrogation of Antonio Almeida is stopped." Someone loosened his restraints and he attempted to climb off the table before they could grab him again, but his body refused to respond to his frantic instructions. Instead, he was pushed into a wheelchair and entered a lift, arriving at the door of the medical area.

People laid him in a soft bed, tucked him up and gave him a shot. A mask was placed over his face, something was attached to his arm, and he drifted off.

* * *

'He was there,' Tony's father's said, throwing his jacket over a chair. 'I checked the garden, the vegetable patch was damp. He must have watered that, and there were snail pellets everywhere. They looked clean, no soil on them, can't have been down for long. And then I went back in the house to search every room, and I found nothing, so I decided, what the hell, I can't just leave like this, and I went to check Michelle's computer, see what he'd accessed. Sweetheart, it wasn't there! The one we saw yesterday beside the monitor was the old Pentium. I remember he said something about it lacking a motherboard; I certainly couldn't power it on. There's no way either of them would have attached it to the monitor.' He rubbed his face. 'Michelle's computer wasn't anywhere in the office.'

'Tony might have taken it, if he had to run,' she argued, forcing herself to believe he was ok.

'He would've called. Someone else took it, and they got him too,' said his father softly.

'I'm going to call Jack,' said Tony's mother, getting up suddenly. 'I can't think of anyone else I can trust right now.'


	5. The Hostage

The bell rang, startling them. They both rushed to the door, opening it, illogical hope in their hearts. 'Good evening,' Koskinen greeted them soberly. Rain dripped from his clothes as they stood aside for him.

'I won't stay, ma'am,' he said hurriedly, eyeing Tony's father with interest. 'I'm Eino Koskinen, I served under your son,' he introduced himself rapidly. 'I made a call to a friend,' he continued, more hesitantly. 'Look, you wanna come outside a bit?'

Amazed, they followed him into the rainstorm, huddling under a tree. 'This friend won't have his name identified, but he works as a doctor in a federal prison.' He fell silent, hating what he was about to tell them.

'Oh God, no,' Tony's mother cried. 'They didn't put him inside? Please don't tell me they did.'

'No ma'am, they didn't,' he said softly, wiping rain from his face. 'They sent his medical records over though; they expect to transfer him tomorrow afternoon. He was too weak to go tonight. It will be LA Federal. I'm real sorry.'

'You said he was too weak to go now,' Tony's father said, catching him as he turned to go. 'What's wrong with my son? Where is he now? Please tell us.'

'Mr. Almeida, I have no idea where he is now,' Koskinen said with a sigh. 'You sure you wanna hear what's wrong with him?'

'Of course I'm sure. He's my son, dammit!' He glared at the sergeant, longing to shake the information from him.

'He looks like you,' Koskinen said slowly. 'They're trying to stabilize him after his interrogation. They used electrodes. They expect he'll be able to be transported by tomorrow, straight over to the medical department. Look, I'll call again soon. If there is anything I can do to help him, just let me know.'

He left without further comment, leaving Tony's parents huddled together. His father pulled himself together first, stroking his wife's hair. 'Shush honey, it'll be ok. I'll try Jack again, he'll probably answer now.'

She nodded, her heart aching. 'That sergeant seemed pretty nervous about speaking inside.'

He nodded. 'I don't think anyone was here, but I'll call from the shed, if you like.' He returned fifteen minutes later, grim, beckoning her out. 'Honey, I spoke to Jack. He'll find out where they're holding Tony and go see him. He helped us before, it'll be okay,' he murmured, while she wept in his arms. 'He'll call us once he spoke to him.'

* * *

Tony stirred, turning his head feebly against the pillow. He examined his new surroundings in silence, moving only his eyes, unwilling to attract attention. Any movement on his part would bring people who would inform others he was awake, and Morris would be summoned. Shivering, he pressed his eyes shut. The respirator breathed for him, he felt oxygen pumped into his lungs. Bright light shone onto his face from the window directly opposite his bed. _So it's daytime. Wonder how long you've been here?_

_Leave now, Almeida, they're not watching you_. Tony attempted to move his feet, bitterly disappointed to feel them secured to the bed. He tried his arms next, confirming that they too were fastened securely under the blankets. Taking care not to allow any movements to show he pushed his upper arm against his chest, feeling the inevitable restraint holding him secure. _Dammit, they're not taking any chances_. He longed to pound the bed in frustration, aware the timeframe for escaping was slipping away.

A glass door was opened and footsteps headed towards his bed. Tony opened an eye a crack and watched three people approaching. Two remained silent near the door while a doctor listened to his heart and lungs. 'He appears conscious, you may speak to him, but I cannot permit further torture.'

'No one will hurt him,' Edwards assured her, turning to the third person. 'We'll go now, Mr. Bauer. Talk to him, you knew him well. Maybe you'll succeed where we've all failed.' He closed the door behind him, leaving Jack alone in the room.

Tony remained immobile, left eye fractionally open, watching his friend approach. Just before Jack reached his bed he shut it, hearing him sitting in a chair. He heard a familiar frustrated sigh, before Jack spoke. 'They said you're conscious, Tony. I don't have a great deal of time.'

Tony allowed his eyes to open a crack, hoping to gauge his friend's mood. He read compassion and worry from them. 'Hi, Jack,' he muttered, unsurprised to feel his tongue stuck to the top of his mouth.

'What did they do to you?' Jack asked, pulling back the blanket and examining his arm. 'Electric shocks? My God, Tony, what did you get mixed up in?'

Tony shifted restlessly; longing to sit up, certain he would be strong enough to do so. 'It's better if you don't know, trust me!'

Jack threw him an exasperated look. 'Tell me now, Tony! Why'd you hack into District?' He threw Tony a look that indicated he doubted his friend's sanity.

Tony felt himself relax a little, aware he would not be hurt while his friend was beside him. 'And if I don't tell. You gonna call some guy with a black box, get them to strap me down?'

Jack glared at him. 'Quit wasting time, Tony. I need to know what you were doing now! How else can I help you?'

Tony snorted and turned his head away, blinking hard. Jack gave him a moment before he turned back. 'You remember the port that was blown up last year? You brought my notes to Division and they got the guys. They didn't get them all; there had to have been someone here passing intel.' Jack threw him a doubtful look and Tony sighed, explaining his questioning the timing. For the first time Jack looked interested.

'You might be onto something. And so you hacked in to check out District's leaders. You're nuts, Tony!'

'One of them's your mole,' Tony told him, watching his friend. 'Jack, you helped catch those 20 guys, you listened to me once before. I did wrong, I just went ahead and searched private files, but I got something. Maybe you could check it out.' Silence stretched between them. 'Come on Jack, a mole that high up would have disastrous consequences for us in everything we do. Our spies will be compromised, our defense policies, our foreign relations, everything. Just say I'm right for a minute. That person should be found.'

'Yeah,' Jack sighed. He looked pityingly at Tony.

'Don't look at me like that,' Tony told him, held in place by his restraints as he once again attempted to rise. 'Tell me what they're gonna do to me? They gonna ask me more questions? They're not gonna let me walk out of here, are they?'

Jack sighed and shook his head, fiddling with Tony's blanket. 'They're aware of the leak of intel, and right now they're convinced you're the source. Nobody believes your allegations; all those District guys have been vetted so often. Right now, Tony, they're planning on transferring you over to Federal to await a trial, which looks real bad. I'm sorry,' he added, his tone showing Tony his deep sympathy.

'It's ok,' Tony assured him, meeting his eyes, while his heart screamed at him. 'I guessed as much. Jack, would you do something for me?'

Jack nodded, almost eager to be of service. 'Go tell my parents where I am and that I'm ok. I don't want them looking for me.' Jack nodded firmly and opened his mouth. 'Wait, I'm not done yet. You've got your gun, shoot me.'

'What!' Jack exclaimed, horrified. 'Why? Tony, gimme a chance to prove you're innocent. I haven't even started looking yet.'

'Jack! You said you're my friend, right? I believed you.' Tony turned away bitterly.

'Tony, what's the matter with you? We're friends.'

'Then why won't you do this for me? You shot Chappelle! I can't go back to prison. I just can't do it Jack, ok.' He gazed at Jack, meeting and holding his gaze. 'Please,' he begged, knowing as he spoke that his friend already refused.

'Tony, you gotta gimme a coupla days to look at this thing,' Jack told him, getting up. 'I promise you I'll come see you, and if doesn't work out…'

Tony turned his face into the pillow, attempting to shut out his friend's voice. 'Go away, Jack. Don't come see me; don't do anything for me, right? Just leave me the hell alone.' He left his face in the pillow, unable to watch his friend exit the room and leave him alone, longing to weep.

'I'll see you in a coupla days Tony, in Federal,' Jack said clearly, leaning forward to turn his head forcibly. 'It won't be so bad, it's pre-trial, you know. Good luck!' A hand reached under the blanket, moving rapidly near his wrist. 'Bye, Tony.'

Tony turned his face back into the pillow, hardly daring to breathe, aware of the need to play along and act depressed. Under the blanket he moved his left wrist, delighted to feel the restrains give. Moving as slowly as he could he pulled his wrist free, pulling his arm across him to undo his right wrist. Swallowing, he lay lower in the bed, undoing his chest restrain and ankles, expecting someone to enter his room any minute_. Thanks Jack, I owe you one!_

Footsteps led towards his room and Tony froze, moving slowly up the bed. The glass door was pushed open and Hammond entered, looking him over scornfully. 'Well, Almeida, you're hiding at medical. Don't worry; our analysts are piecing all your dealings together right now. We know you sold the list of our agents in North Korea last week and…'

Tony shook his head, horrified; unaware the list had been compromised.

'You aware how many we lost, Almeida? Doesn't it mean anything to you, human life? Well, you'll pay for it, alright. You're off to Federal Prison this afternoon, and you'll stay there till the day you die. I'm going to make sure its somewhere real far away, so no one will visit you. Don't worry though; I'm sure they'll push your execution through fast enough. Goodnight.'

He turned, his back to the man in bed. 'I'll come watch, by the way.'

_I'll never get out without at least 50 cameras filming me. The moment one picks me up they'll lock down the whole building, I wouldn't have a hope, unless…_ Tony sat up in one fluid movement and grabbed the startled Hammond's gun from his holster. 'Freeze, Brad!' He glanced at the camera directly opposite. 'We're gonna walk outa here, and I'll release him. If anyone approaches us, I'll kill him and a coupla others. I want the doors unlocked and the floor cleared.' A quick glance showed him his clothes on the back of a chair. 'Move, Brad,' he ordered, pushing the gun further against Hammond's head. 'Over to that chair. Face the wall, hands on your head._' Gee, Almeida, you almost sound like a prison guard. Keep it up, you can seek employment there!_ He dressed rapidly, pulling the faded jeans and t-shirt on, sliding his favorite sweater over his head and grabbed his shoes. 'Ok, we're leaving. Walk real slow and don't try anything, coz I remember yesterday pretty well.'

'Open the door,' he ordered, and Hammond opened the glass door, stepping onto the deserted corridor. Tony followed, gun pressed into Hammond's temple, along a blue carpeted corridor and onto the main floor of Division. Dozens of agents watched a couple of feet back as they walked out, staring at his hostage for directions.

'Stand back,' Hammond ordered, glaring at a few. 'Move back, now. You won't get away with this Almeida, you should know that. We're gonna track you…'

'Shut up,' Tony ordered, his eyes searching the floor for the slightest hint of movement. 'Keep going.' Hammond crossed the floor and walked along the corridor, over to the admission desk, where they were observed silently by two security guards. The glass door buzzed and opened when pushed and they emerged into an early afternoon of pouring rain. 'Good,' Tony said, breathing easier. 'Now I know you're gonna track me, and I have no intention of that happening, so you're coming along for a little while. Where's your car?'

'Almeida, damn you to hell,' Hammond hissed, leading the way across the car park. Tony allowed the remark to pass as he focused on the entire area, making certain all was clear. They approached the latest model SUV and Hammond unlocked the door.

'Get in,' Tony ordered, climbing into the passenger seat. 'Alright Brad, let's go. Remember, try anything at all, I'll shoot you.' Hammond shuddered slightly at the cold, expressionless man beside him. He started the car and they pulled out of the car park, being waved through by the security guard at the gate. 'We're going downtown,' Tony instructed as Hammond glanced at him. He leaned back into his seat, his adrenalin rush over, trembling from exhaustion. _Pull yourself together, Almeida. In a minute Hammond will notice your weakness and attempt to snatch his gun_. He forced himself upright, frowning at the road ahead of them.

Tony relaxed slightly as they pulled into an undercover car park. 'Alright Brad, get out. We're gonna change cars.' Hammond scowled at him wordless as he climbed out, followed by Tony. 'You see that old van? We'll take it. Open the door.' He watched without blinking as Hammond opened the old van's door and climbed inside. 'Start it up,' Tony ordered, impressed despite himself with how fast Hammond hotwired it. The sooner they left the dark car park where visibility was limited the happier he would feel, he decided.

'Where to?' he asked in a surly tone, glaring at Tony.

Tony rubbed his face, aware of the need to leave LA, but determined to give himself at least 24 hours before Hammond could return to tell his whereabouts. 'You don't look like you been to the beach too often, Brad,' he said, mildly. 'We'll go there now. Just head to the coast.' He settled back against the seat, relaxing fractionally. They were in a different vehicle, they had pulled out after two others, and the windows were dim. It would be hard to track them.

Hammond drove along the coast, a sullen look on his face, stopping in irritation as a group of surfers walked across the road at a leisurely pace. 'Damn welfare scum! They wouldn't know what the word 'work' meant if you explained it to them.' Tony chewed his lip, fighting down his amusement. Slowly they passed the popular beaches, reaching more deserted ones as LA was left behind. A van paused in front of them, pale blue with an orange bonnet. Hammond swore as it reversed, parking along the road. A dog leaned out of an open window, barking furiously. 'Hooligans,' he muttered.

'This is the dog beach,' Tony remarked, gazing at the distant people with dogs. 'Keep going, Brad, we got a long way to go.'

'You know, you'll fry for this,' Hammond stuttered, driving further south. 'You won't get away with it, Almeida. They'll catch you, and …'

'And I'll fry,' Tony agreed, 'just like I would've if I'd have stayed. Keep going, Brad. I got nothing to lose, don't piss me off, while you still do.'

Hammond let out an irritated breath, driving along the increasingly narrow road. 'Where the hell does this go?'

'All the way,' Tony told him, steeling himself against the potholes. Several hours later he sat up, worn out from watching his hostage. 'Ok Brad, we're gonna part company. Pull over and switch off the car.' He watched as Hammond parked and they climbed out. An icy wind met them, and he pulled his sweater tighter round himself. 'Now I take it you're not into hiking?'

Hammond threw him a furious look.

'I thought not. Never mind Brad, it's never too late to try.' He nodded his head towards a narrow track that led sharply down a cliff. 'Let's go.'

'Where?' Hammond demanded. 'You're nuts, Almeida, that ends up in the ocean.' A nervous look crept across his face. 'You're not thinking of tossing me over the cliff, are you? I'm a federal agent, you're aware…'

'That I'll hang for it, sure I am,' Tony interrupted. 'Quit wasting time, Brad. Let's go.'

They set off along the track, following its winding course ever lower. Hammond breathed easier as they reached the bottom of the rocks. 'Keep moving to your left,' Tony ordered, waving his gun at his hostage. 'Don't worry, Brad, you'll get your chance to admire the scenery.' He poked Hammond firmly in the ribs and Hammond set off along the lower rocks, climbing with difficulty over some slippery ones.

'Hell,' he swore as he slipped in a rock pool, wetting his shoes and trousers. 'Almeida, I'll hang you personally, I'll place the noose round your neck.'

Tony let out a frustrated breath. 'Look, Brad, right now I got the gun, ok? I'm getting a little tired of hearing your threats. You're presuming you're gonna live to do any of it. At this stage, I'm not real sure anymore what I plan to do with you.'

Hammond fell silent, climbing a large rock. 'Ok, Brad, see that dark hole just inside the cliff? Walk that way, we're going inside. I take it you're not into exploring caves?'

Hammond gave a frustrated yell as they approached a small opening. 'Now Brad, this is your lucky day,' Tony told him, pushing him down. 'You took everything I had from me, my job, my family, my home. You turned me into a fugitive without giving me the benefit of a doubt. You had me tortured, hell, you nearly killed me. And I'm still gonna let you live.' They stared at each other in silence in the shadows. 'Gimme your handcuffs,' Tony ordered, taking them and unlocking them. 'Hands behind your back.'

'Dammit Almeida, you can't leave me here cuffed! I'll never get up that cliff,' Hammond exclaimed, outraged.

'Oh, I think you will, Brad,' Tony told him, gazing upwards. 'It'll take you a day or two, though, getting over all those rocks. You'll move, when you're hungry enough.' He handed his irritated hostage a bottle of water. 'I'll leave this for you; you gave me a drink too. Now a word of advice, Brad. When you get up that cliff, you're gonna need a lift back to LA. The people round here are surfers or fishermen, they're not used to being ordered around. You're gonna need to be real polite unless you wanna walk home.'

'Almeida,' Hammond howled as he set off, watching the setting sun. 'Come back this instant.'

'I'd wait till tomorrow before you start heading up,' Tony told him, turning round. 'It'll be dark soon, and that cave is quite secure. Oh, and Brad,' he lowered his voice. 'I never sold any intel to anyone.' He turned, climbing over the sharp rocks, determined to reach the path before darkness set in.


	6. Leaving The States

A crescent moon lit the ocean as he walked along the sand, moving noiselessly towards the shore. Two boats bobbed on the heavy surf, straining at their anchors. Tony paused, examining them critically. They were both small, neither of them appearing sound enough to take onto the open ocean, yet he was forced to choose one. Time was running out for him, it was essential he reach the relative safety of Mexico by morning, where he would disappear. By now his picture would be spread all over the States, and every small town sheriff would be on the lookout for him.

After a few minutes of silent deliberation he chose the larger of the two vessels, a small fiberglass with an onboard motor. Tony put his hand into the water, confirming that it was indeed cold. The swim would be hard with his clothes in the strong surf, but he had little choice. He had no chance of crossing the border by car, and he was aware the illegal crossing tracks would be monitored extra carefully that night. Taking a deep breath he walked in, caught almost immediately by a strong undertow, dragging him along the shore. He swam as hard as he could to break free and head out to sea, arriving chilled to the bone. He climbed into the boat, dismayed to note the waves had claimed a shoe. _That's great, Almeida! You're really gonna fit in, walking around with one shoe!_

He pulled the cord and the engine spluttered to life. Tony breathed a silent prayer and nosed her out of the relative shelter of the bay. On the open ocean the waves towered over his small craft, sloshing in. Tony turned her into them and hunted along the bottom, discovering a rope, a fishing rod and a bucket. He set about bailing out determinedly, one hand on the tiller. An hour into the trip the heavens opened and rain poured down, reducing visibility and drenching him for the second time that evening. Thoroughly miserable, he settled in the wet boat, thankful the waves grew no stronger. _Come on Almeida, pull yourself together! The storm's passing. Sure you're all wet, but you hadn't exactly dried after your swim yet, so what's the problem? At least the boat is beginning to move._ He thought of Hammond alone in the dark cave, watching the rain, and a little of his depression lifted. He wasn't the only one spending an uncomfortable night – the only difference being that Hammond would return home sometime the following day, while he had little idea of where he would end up.

Tony kept a sharp eye out for the coastguard as the boat battled its way south, struggling to think where exactly he planned to go should he arrive across the boarder safely. He had no money, no change of clothes and only one shoe, and he was well aware District would have sent his details over long before he arrived. An unbidden memory came to him of his grandfather's house before he dismissed it as ludicrous. That was sure to be searched, and his grandfather was dead years ago, having left the place to his eldest cousin Jose. He had no right to disturb the family. He swallowed, casting around for anyone else who could help him. His father had a brother with several children, but they all lived in large cities and would likewise be watched. 'Pedro!' he exclaimed suddenly, with a groan. Pedro was the one relative he found it impossible to get along with, a drifter who dabbled in shady deals. Just recently Jose had called him and had explained Pedro worked as a builder in some small town, and appeared to be highly successful. Maybe he could borrow a little money and get himself some passport and flee. Mexico was not safe enough; he would be handed over the moment he would be caught.

A distant glow caught his attention. He turned the boat towards the shore, pushing her to the limit, lowering the anchor the moment the larger vessel came into sight. The coastguard passed him without giving him a glance while he lay on the bottom, heart pounding. _Hopefully that was it, Almeida. Keep your eyes open though, they'll be extra vigilant tonight!_

The poor weather continued, rain pouring out of a grey sky. As the darkness turned to murky shade Tony pulled into a quiet beach, aware he was still on US soil. His only chance lay in his theft having gone unnoticed; in which case the boat anchored close to shore would attract little comment. He swam ashore, aided by the rough waves, and dug himself into the sand between some coastal vegetation, able to keep his eye on the boat. He opened his mouth to the rain, cold, thirsty and hungry.

* * *

Tony's father opened the door, shivering in the wind. He was exhausted, having stayed up the majority of the night with his wife. Neither of them could imagine why Jack had failed to call them as he had promised he would. They had spent the night in despair, torn between worrying that he had failed to locate Tony, or that he had in fact done so and hadn't dared pass them any further bad news. Rain poured on him as he stepped outside, determined to reach his car as fast as possible. Two men directly in front of him pulled him up short.

'Federal Agent Main,' the older one informed him, pulling out his card. 'We need to search your house.'

'Why?' Tony's father demanded, alarmed. 'Where the hell is my son? You've got no right to deny us access.'

'We're here to discover his whereabouts,' stated the same agent, stepping into the house. He glanced round rapidly, nodding his head towards the dining room. 'Sit down, Mr. Almeida. Where is your wife?'

'This is my house,' Tony's father began, furious to find himself led into his dining room. His wife appeared a moment later, her face red. 'Now sit here, please, while we take a look around. Agent Armstrong will remain with you.'

'And you call this a free country!' Tony's father's muttered.

Agent Main turned back to him. 'We can hold our discussion down at CTU, if you like,' he said, leaving the room. They sat in silence while the house was searched, noting two more agents arrival. Presently Main returned, a resigned look on his face. 'Alright, Mr. and Mrs. Almeida,' he began, pulling out a chair and facing them. 'Your son is obviously not here. Now I need to know where he is, and you're gonna help me locate him.'

'Me help YOU?' asked Tony's mother, startled. 'I haven't seen Tony for three days now. You better tell us where he is.' Her husband threw her a warning glance, squeezing her hand.

Agent Main looked unimpressed. 'He was being held pending an investigation into treason.' He paused, allowing the word to echo round the room. Tony's father looked unimpressed. 'Your son is a traitor, you should know that. He is responsible for the loss of lives. Now I suggest you tell us where he is.'

'I thought you had him,' Tony's father said, coldly. 'It's a waste of time hunting for him though, I know my son, and he is no traitor. I don't doubt you got a couple, but you better look elsewhere. As for Tony, I don't know where he is. Did you lose him?'

Agent Main's face turned red. 'He escaped from custody with a hostage. That man's life is in danger. Let me warn you that under the homeland security act, knowledge of the likely whereabouts of a person or persons suspected of treason brings an immediate charge of aiding and abetting if not treason itself. You'd do better to tell me where he is likely to have gone.'

Tony's parents glanced at one another. His father squeezed his mother's hand firmly. 'You just searched my house. He's not here. I have no idea where Antonio is. You have an expression; let me think, ah yes, "It's a small world." Look for him.'

He noticed a flicker in Agent Main's eyes and felt a shiver run down his back as the man turned to him. 'Any further comments, Mr. Almeida, and I'll take you into custody, where you can await the arrival of your son!' He paused for emphasis, staring at both of them, while they stared back, holding hands under the table. 'Alright, I'm glad we understand each other,' he continued, without removing his eyes from them. 'Let's get to work!

'I want a list of every one of your relatives, and their exact address,' he ordered, handing over a notebook. 'Yours too, Mrs. Almeida. That includes parents, siblings, cousins, nephews, nieces, the lot! And the list better include everyone!' He glared at them, while Tony's mother rose to fetch their address book.

* * *

Tony chewed a green stalk, remembering basic survival training when he joined the Marines. It tasted bitter and slightly minty, but it was edible. Apart from providing him with food it was high in water content, easing his thirst. The rain poured down ceaselessly, never stopping for longer than 10 minutes, leaving him drenched and extremely uncomfortable. The sand the majority of his body was concealed in was cold and wet too, and the rain dropped relentlessly on his head. Once again he cursed Agent Castle for dragging him out of his home minus his jacket. He coughed, placing his hand firmly round his mouth, his training fresh in his memory. His bones ached and his body was racked by shivers, which failed to respond to his arms pressed ever tighter round his ribs. The day appeared to last an eternity before he noticed the faint shadows stretched along the shore. He swam out to the boat again, fighting his way through the surf that threatened to deposit him back on the beach, using the last of his strength to climb into it.

The second night at sea proved uneventful. The rain poured down steadily and the coastguard vessels patrolled several miles further out, missing his tiny craft. Tony arrived at a quiet beach, certain he had reached Mexico. He anchored and swam ashore, his body numb from the cold water. Nothing stirred in the early morning light, the sand wet from the previous rain. It would be safer to move away from the ocean, in case anyone noticed the boat and suspected he had a connection with its presence. Forcing his weary body to move, he stumbled along the dunes, seeking a path that would lead him to a road.

'Stop!' ordered a voice, and he froze momentarily, searching for the location of the order. A man in a Mexican army uniform appeared, carrying a rifle. Tony fled further into the dunes, the bushes providing him necessary cover. A shot rang out, passing alarmingly close by him. He paused for an instant, as the track divided into two, choosing the one close to the soldier, as it offered greater cover. A second shot rang out before he could move, lodging in his upper arm. Old military training kicked in. He picked himself up before his mind fully registered what had occurred and raced for the safety of the tallest shrubs, breathing deep shallow breaths.

Blood mixed with pieces of sweater covered his wound. Tony peeled them away as best he could, checking the injury, searching in vain for an exit point. 'Damn' he swore softly, aware he would have trouble removing it later. Listening hard, he heard the soldier searching down the second path, convinced he had rushed further away.

_Now Almeida, I know this hurts_, Tony told himself, tying his sweater round his arm to staunch the blood_. It hurts real bad, and you're exhausted, but you got this far, and you sure don't wanna get captured here. You'd end up in back in LA Federal by the evening, if not sooner. Now this guy is gonna call for backup any second, it's imperative that you leave this area now_. Hissing with pain he moved noiselessly forward, keeping to the shelter of the dunes till he reached a road. It appeared deserted. Tony slipped across and disappeared into the coastal vegetation, heading inland.

An hour later his weary body could go no further. He sank down under a tree, allowing his eyes to close. His clothes steamed in the sunshine, damp enough to keep his fever down while he slept. Footsteps close beside him woke him - he grabbed Hammond's gun and released the safety, determined not be captured alive. Someone passed a couple of feet from him but failed to spot him. He lay back, allowing himself to relax. It was certainly time to get moving, he just needed a minute to pull himself together. His head ached, his bones hurt, his throat was so sore he doubted whether he would be able to swallow anything and his arm throbbed sickeningly. Placing a hand across his mouth he coughed, deeper than before, aware his cold was catching up with him.

Memories of prison helped him find the willpower to get moving. Tony stumbled along beside a narrow road determined to reach a settlement where he would be able to steal some medicine. He really needed it, he was too sick to continue much longer. Most of all he needed a place where he could stay, where he would be permitted to rest until his cold cleared and his arm healed, a place where he would be fed and maybe fussed over. Tears filled his eyes at the final thought, which he blinked away before they could fall, knowing he had instinctively thought of his parents' home. _Keep moving, Almeida. One foot, then the other, you're doing great. _He was not, he knew it, he just encouraged himself the way he had first done in the war when a building had collapsed on top of him. _You really can't stop. Look, there's a village just ahead._

Tony managed to approach the village unobserved, forcing his weakness aside and creeping silently ahead. It appeared heavily populated for the handful of buildings he could make out, but he was aware extended families occupied most of the dwellings. Children played noisily in the town square outside a tiny school, a few old men smoked pipes on a bench under a tree, an old lady dressed in black entered the small church and two women stepped out of a shop, bags laden. He wondered where the pharmacy was, not daring to risk exposing himself by creeping further. Straining his eyes he made out a small building beside the shop and he relaxed slightly, aware it would either be the drugstore or the post office. He settled in the shade, extremely hungry and thirsty, forced to wait till darkness.

A vehicle drove down the road, covering him in a cloud of dust. Tony closed his eyes, turning his face away. Once the dust settled he slithered closer to the edge of the bush he lay inside, gazing at the town. It would really help if he could find out in advance which shop was the drugstore. What he saw next caused his heart to skip a beat. Three policemen stepped out of the car, greeted by a fourth who appeared to be local, judging by the haste in buttoning his shirt as he waited outside the station. Two of the policemen wore uniforms he had seen before, identifying them as ordinary officers on patrol in larger settlements, while the third wore a distinguished uniform, perfectly at ease in the crowd of gaping onlookers. He spoke to one of his aides, his words lost in the distance. Tony crawled forward, longing to hear whether his name would be mentioned. _Why else would he be here? That local guy was certainly surprised by the visit._

One of the aides held up a large picture, waving it round slowly to ensure all in the crowd had a chance to examine it. 'Alright, this man is Antonio Almeida, an American. He's wanted, preferably alive. There's a reward, I'm still waiting to hear how much. I will stick his picture up here, and if any of you see him, you go tell Señor Ramos,' he pointed to the local policeman whose mouth was as wide open as the crowds', 'and he'll call me and you'll get the reward.' A murmur ran through the assembled throng. 'Oh, one more thing. If ANYONE at all helps this man, they will go to prison. That's all.' He climbed back into the police car and his aides followed him, driving through the other end of the town. The local policeman fetched some tape and stuck his picture on the shop window before turning to walk back inside the station. The crowd split into smaller groups, the adults discussing this unusual incursion into their routine with interest, the children beginning games of police.

Tony rubbed his face vigorously, attempting to recover from his shock. _Looks like they're really out to get you, Almeida! They didn't just hang your picture up; they made a point of offering a reward! Who decided they need you back so bad? Hammond doesn't have the authority to offer financial incentives._ He pressed his hand over his mouth as a coughing fit took him, determined to remain concealed. _There goes any hope of catching a bus or getting a lift, or even driving down a road._ He rubbed his face again, unsurprised to find his forehead hot. It would be hard to survive the next few days in full health, let alone in his condition. _Focus, Almeida! Sure they're a little excited round here, its right near the border and you were spotted this morning. Things will be a little quieter further south. You just got to wait till night and get some food and medicine, and you'll be fine!_

* * *

Brad Hammond stared at his visitor speechless, unable to believe what he had just been told. 'You want Almeida to get away? With all due respect, sir, the man's a traitor!' His visitor remained silent. Outraged, Hammond continued his protest. 'I don't understand. Do you realize what he done to me? He took me hostage, he held me at gun point, he abandoned me in a slimy cave on some God forsaken cliff, I could've died!'

His words failed to impress the head of District, who sat on a chair opposite him. 'Did Almeida hurt you? Did he steal any money?'

'No, but…'

'Listen to me, Mr. Hammond.'

'The man's a traitor, for Chrissake! He hacked into your department, he sold information and codes, he…'

'Mr. Hammond,' snapped the head of District, losing patience. 'I need to ask a few questions, kindly answer them! How did Almeida leave medical? I understand he was restrained. And why was he there in the first place? Was he sick?' His eyes bore into Hammond's.

'Sir, we questioned him and he refused to cooperate. He kept stalling for time, obviously to allow his contacts to disappear.' His visitor raised his eyebrows and Hammond groaned. 'He kept insisting he was trying to find who sent information about a ship's location.'

'And you had him tortured?'

Hammond gazed at his boss in increasing concern. 'Of course I did, sir. He was hard to crack, we had to push him a little, and then he needed a rest in medical.'

'His files say he nearly died,' remarked Hodgeson, head of District. 'My question, Brad is, how does a man who's nearly dead free himself from restraints and take someone hostage?'

Hammond shrugged. 'We're still looking into it, sir. He was a little better by then…Jack Bauer came by to question him, he got away soon after that, but we couldn't find anything on our tapes.'

'Jack Bauer asked Chloe O'Brien to examine Almeida's information. She was able to trace his research and passed it onto me,' Hodgeson said, his voice emotionless. 'Almeida did in fact hack in only once, to check what we had on that ship.'

Hammond squirmed on the edge of his chair. Would he be reprimanded for being too harsh? 'But the codes were compromised, we lost agents abroad.'

'We sure did. Almeida's investigation opened a can of worms. District's in an uproar. Fact is, we got a mole, and it's someone high up. We got a problem, we arrived at a blank around the same place Almeida did. Now here's what I want you to do. I made it a priority to every department in District to catch this dangerous traitor, Almeida, and I'm gonna watch who is most interested in doing so. That person will probably be our mole, and he or she will attempt to kill Almeida. I want you to post a coupla agents to keep an eye on him, and to watch who'll go in for the final kill from his end, while I'll watch from here. Ideally we would need at least a fortnight to collect any evidence. Is that perfectly clear, Hammond?'

Hammond swallowed, nervous of the intense gaze. 'Yessir. I guess he'll prove useful after all – bait for the hunters. We'll monitor Almeida and see who comes to capture him and bring him back.'

'Good,' Hodgeson told him, getting up. 'Better send a coupla agents trained in undercover operations down to Mexico at once.'

'I will sir, only we got a slight problem,' Hammond admitted, quietly. 'We're not exactly sure of his location, sir.'

'Then I suggest you find him,' Hodgeson told him. 'It's an order, Brad. Do so immediately, before he gets too deep into Mexico. He's our bait to draw out a dangerous traitor. It's a matter of national security.'


	7. A Friend In Need

Thousands of grasshoppers chirped in the moonlight as Tony stirred, pulling himself up with difficulty. His face was warm when it came into contact with his lower arm, indicating fever, and his constant shivering told him it was rising. Without medicines he would be unable to move the following day, and he would either be captured or die in some hole. A coughing fit took him in the center of the settlement, and he forced his sleeve into his mouth, aware of the need for absolute silence. He froze, hiding behind a tree, waiting for several anxious minutes before he felt certain no one had heard him. Gritting his teeth he forced himself to walk onwards, ignoring the ground swaying around him.

The drugstore was dark, secured by a stout wooden door. Tony walked around the back, discovering a loose shutter above a window. Taking care to move slowly, he placed his hands against it and pushed, dismayed to hear a loud creak. The sudden sound echoed through the silence, waking several dogs. Tony pressed himself back into some shadows, trembling. A few yells sounded in the distance and the dogs fell silent. He pulled the shutter the rest of the way, breathless, relieved to hear no further sound, and pushed a window open wider, climbing inside.

The place was tiny. Tony moved behind the counter, turning the handle on the door that led into a store room, delighted to find it unlocked. _About time you had a little luck, Almeida!_ He turned on the light and blinked in the sudden brightness, searching the shelves. He found gauze and disinfectant easily, but found it harder to search through the piles of antibiotics for the most optimum one for his throat infection. After several minutes of searching he found a pack whose name he recognized. He also took a second pack for his arm, determined not to let the wound get infected. Was there anything else he had missed? Of course there was, he needed something to dull the pain of his bullet wound. Before he left he glanced around, making certain all packages were laid back neatly on the shelves. Now if only he could find a little food, he would be alright. Tony pulled the storeroom door shut behind him and turned off the light, noticing a low shelf just beside the door. His fingers closed on a plastic bottle of apple juice and a Milky Way, not exactly the meal he needed but better than nothing. He took both tablets and a painkiller, allowing himself a ten minute break to eat the chocolate. He placed the packet in his pocket and pushed the shutter closed rapidly, glad to hear only a faint squeak.

He continued through the silent settlement, pausing in front of the shop window to examine his picture. It was a black and white photocopy, vaguely recognizable. Underneath the picture it described him, adding that he spoke perfect Spanish and that he was armed and highly dangerous. Anyone catching sight of him should notify the police and avoid contact. Tony rubbed his face, mesmerized. _Well, you're famous, Almeida. Your picture is posted all over the country. Wanted, dead or alive. Preferably alive, I guess, they haven't finished your interrogation yet._ He shuddered and turned his face away, walking slowly along the road.

An hour later he had cleared the settlement, walking past market gardens. He really needed a lift, or he would be on the road for a week at least before he arrived at his cousin's, yet he dared not ask for one. Just before dawn he entered an orchard and picked a couple of apples which he ate under the tree, taking care to place the cores in his pocket. He picked a few more randomly from all round the tree before surveying his surroundings. The entire area consisted of orchards and market gardens; he would be forced to lie low in one of them. He moved closer to the house, noting the layout of the buildings, pleased to find the farm consisted of several outhouses, just as his grandfather's had. He opened a storeroom and moved down a flight of stairs, concealing himself behind a large crate of potatoes, stored till the next season in the cool cellar. It was cold and dark, the floor beaten earth. A musty smell filled the area and he pulled his sweater tight, shivering. If only there had been any sheltered spot outside, but there hadn't been, he supposed he should be grateful for any place.

A few smaller crates lined the walls. Tony put his hand deep inside one and withdrew a carrot, soil still on it. The next box contained some beetroot, the third lettuce. He wandered round a little further, straining his eyes to peer into the gloom along a row of shelves. Presently he came across what he sought, a sharp knife. Holding the carrot in his injured arm, he peeled it, followed by the beetroot, and he removed several outer leaves from the lettuce. Hiding all the leaves at the bottom of the crate of carrots, he ate breakfast. _At least it's healthy_; he reflected wryly_, no oil, no bacon or eggs, no strong coffee!_ Something told him he would lead an extremely healthy lifestyle provided he recovered from his cold - plenty of walking, lots of fresh air and sunshine, and nothing but fruit, vegetables and water to eat and drink. He ate his antibiotics and a painkiller, before he settled down to rest.

Hours later he stirred, unsure what had woken him. Pressing himself further behind the crate he listened hard, hearing a car's engine driving away. Tony stirred and climbed the stairs, opening the door a crack. The car he had noticed in the morning had left, driving along the lane in the distance. He cursed himself for not having woken sooner to check how many people had driven away. For a while he remained by the door, straining his ears for any sound, but nothing further disturbed the chirping of the birds. He decided to sneak out and examine his surroundings, knowing he needed water to clean his arm. All proved deserted. Tony picked his way past a chicken coup and pulled the door of the house open, listening hard.

An old wooden table with four chairs sat in the middle of the kitchen floor. Despite himself he was unable to resist searching the cupboards, cutting himself a slice of fresh bread. There was no running water inside, so he returned to the garden and drew himself a bucket from the well, settling in a sunny spot to examine his injury. He pulled his rough home made bandage from it, forced to soak his t-shirt in the water to wash away the dried blood before it gave. Tony pursed his lips, steeling himself for the sight. His arm was red and sore, purple bruises around the actual hole, a rough jagged cut marking the bullet's entry. He pulled the jagged edges aside, ignoring the pain, and examined the bullet. He was unable to remove it with his fingers. 'Dammit,' he muttered, having hoped he could take it out himself, aware that infection would set in if the bullet remained. 'You're gonna need a doctor, Almeida.' He sighed deeply, aware his cover would be blown the moment he entered a surgery. Hopefully his cousin would find one who could be trusted to keep silent.

He rinsed the wound, rubbed it dry in his sweater and opened the bottle of disinfectant. Washing his hands again, he applied it all round the wound, groaning aloud. 'Ow.' Sweat trickled down his face as he recapped the bottle. He allowed himself a minute to rest before washing his face.

All was silent. Tony doubted whether anyone would arrive back for a while. Taking a chance, he removed his clothes and drew a fresh bucket, pouring it slowly over his back. He washed as well as he could and moved into the sunshine, drying rapidly. Reluctantly he pulled his grimy clothes back on, resolved to wash them the moment he crossed a stream.

A distant dust cloud caught his attention, and he rinsed the bucket, hung it back in the same location he found it in, checked to make certain no blood remained on the ground, and ran back to the cellar. He pulled the door shut behind him and peered out, ready to flee downwards should anyone approach the building.

Two people climbed out unhurriedly, passing close beside the cellar. 'That man didn't look so bad. He is not some bad terrorista, he must be with some freedom fighters,' a middle aged woman said, reaching for the bucket. 'Bring some water.'

'Sí. It is disgraceful, posting that picture. How could anyone go to church after having sold somebody?' An old man shook his head, carrying the bucket inside.

'Felipe, somebody was here!' the woman cried, and Tony chewed his lip, wondering what had given him away. Silently he pulled Hammond's gun out, pressing himself against the door. 'There was more bread.'

'So someone hungry took some bread! Is anything else gone?'

Tony watched them search the garden, heart beating rapidly. How in the world could he shoot two harmless middle aged people who genuinely owned nothing? He cursed himself again for having eaten that slice of bread. These people obviously lived in extreme poverty to have missed that small piece. The cellar door was pulled open and he pushed his gun into the man's face.

'One move, you'll regret it. Put your hands up.'

The old man stared at him startled before he raised his hands, eyeing the gun. 'OK, they're up. You going to put that gun away now?' He glanced at Tony, seeming to read his thoughts. 'You're not going to shoot me, anyway.'

'I can't afford to have you talk,' Tony muttered, running through his options and discarding them all. He would NOT harm the couple.

'So what kind of people do you think we are?' questioned the man, reproachfully. 'You think we need US dollars, or maybe more pesos? We are old, we got what we need.' He turned his back on the gun. 'We go to church, we are clean in here.' He tapped his chest. 'You think at this age I will ruin that?'

'I'm sorry,' Tony muttered, replacing the gun. He leaned against the cellar door, overcome by exhaustion. 'Just don't tell anyone I was here. I'll go this evening.'

The man turned back, regarding him in silence. 'You don't look like you'd get far,' he observed. 'Better come into the house and have something to eat.'

Tony forced himself to shake his head. 'I can't. If anyone finds I was here, you'll be in real trouble. I'll just go.'

'Not before you eat,' the old man told him, as stubborn as his grandfather had been. Tony blinked, alarmed to find the world misty. 'Come on,' he was told, and his arm was taken. 'Maria, we have a guest. Is there any lunch left?'

The woman regarded him frankly, unsurprised to find him there. 'There is. I'll warm something for you. Sit down.' She pulled out a rough chair and Tony sank down, searching the room uneasily.

'You don't need to be frightened, we're not expecting anyone today,' the old man insisted. 'Or are you looking for a phone?' He laughed at his joke, his wife laughing with him, until Tony smiled too. 'Ah, it's ready. Eat that.'

'Gracias,' Tony said, genuinely moved. He stirred a plate of beans, too hungry to wait for them to cool, placing his spoon in his left hand. The couple watched while he wolfed down the last morsel, silent.

'What happened to your arm?' questioned the woman, nodding her head at the gauze.

'I got shot,' he admitted, propping his head on his elbow before he remembered where he was and forced himself straighter. His action had not passed unnoticed. The woman reached forward to touch his face, muttering to herself.

'Put him in Tomas's bed,' she instructed her husband, who rose immediately.

'Come with me,' he told Tony, helping him out of the chair.

'No, I can't' Tony told them. 'The meal was great, but I have to go now.' They shook their heads, concerned about his health. 'You don't understand,' he attempted to explain. 'They're looking for me. If they find me here, they'll take you too.'

'Nobody comes here,' the old man assured him.

Tony groaned aloud, longing to stay and sleep in a warm bed. His eyes closed and he gripped his chair tightly, feeling both of them around him. 'Come on, the bed's that way,' the woman said, and he found himself led into a larger room where they obviously slept and on into a smaller one that opened from it.

The old man helped him undress, removing all his clothes. 'They need to be washed,' he told Tony, pulling back the covers on a narrow bed. 'Get in. Don't worry, we have four sons, you don't need to look so ashamed.' Tony climbed into the bed and the man took the covers, pausing.

'Electricity,' he said, gazing at the marks left by Hammond. 'I have seen this before, many years ago. Sleep now and we'll look at your arm later.'

Tony closed his eyes, allowing his exhausted body to relax. Before he fell asleep he felt a cold cloth placed on his forehead.

* * *

'Thanks for coming in, Ms Dessler,' Hodgeson said, standing up to greet her as she entered his office. 'Normally there is no reason we would interrupt an agent working on a case at Langley, but under the circumstances…'

'You felt compelled to call me,' Michelle finished for him, chewing her lip. 'Mr. Hodgeson, you don't know Tony, you never met him. He's the most honorable man I know. Things look pretty bad for him right now, but I can tell you for a fact that he isn't a traitor. If there is one, it's got to be someone else.'

Hodgeson regarded her without comment. She chewed her lip, meeting his gaze unflinching. 'I only need to know where he is likely to have gone,' he told her, watching her reaction. 'We traced him across the border, but they lost him. We are aware you went to Mexico twice.'

She shook her head. 'We went to Acapulco for the weekend once, three years ago. Another time we went to see some Mayan ruins. He's hardly likely to be in either location.'

'Did you ever meet any of his relatives?' he pressed her, his eyes boring into hers.

'I met all his relatives in Chicago, but few of the Mexican ones. Just one, who lived in their grandfather's house.'

'And you doubt he'd go there.'

'He'd never go there,' she said firmly. 'Tony's aware you think he's your mole, and he'd NEVER involve anyone else in his problems. He's not like that, he'd rather die. He wouldn't even check his suspicions out whilst I was home, to make sure I could not be implicated.' She blinked the tears to the back of her eyes, desperately worried about him.

Hodgeson regarded her steadily. 'I see. So could you explain to me how come he knew your passwords? He's a convicted traitor, for God's sake! He had NO RIGHT to such knowledge. What else did you share with him?'

Michelle shook her head, shocked. 'I didn't share anything with Tony. I never spoke about my work since his release, and he never asked.'

'Next thing you'll be telling me, you weren't even aware of what he did during the day for the past three weeks,' he snorted, watching her.

She turned red under the intense scrutiny. 'To be honest, Mr. Hodgeson, you're right. I had an awfully busy couple of weeks, and Tony spent his time alone. I don't know exactly what he did during the day. I know he went to the beach a lot, but to be honest, he's a lot quieter than he used to be. We used to work together before; we had no secrets, so I guess this is real hard on him. As for the passwords, I had them for a while. We picked it out together.'

'And the code? Did he pick that out too?' Hodgeson inquired, sarcastically.

'The code was an important date to me. I had no idea he still thought about it also,' she admitted quietly. 'I understand if you feel compelled to fire me, sir.'

'That won't be necessary,' he told her, to her amazement. 'Just change your codes. If you can think of anyplace at all Almeida could hide out, let me know.'

Michelle got up, turning back at the door. 'What's going on here, Mr. Hodgeson?' she asked. 'If you really suspect Tony of being a mole, you wouldn't let me go so easily. You know it's not him, right?'

'We're looking into all leads,' he told her, determined not to involve her any further. For a moment their eyes met, before she turned back to the door and opened it, shaking her head slightly. Something was wrong, she knew it. She determined to discover what it was.

* * *

'Mr. Hammond, you've got a call from a Miguel Alvarez, Mexican Intelligence,' his receptionist told him.

'Thanks, I'll take it in my office,' he replied, searching his memory. 'Ah yes, the head of some bordering state's intelligence service, he had been to LA once before.' Almeida had introduced him during his trip to Division, and Hammond had muttered a few words before ignoring him. He struggled to recall what the man looked like. 'Mr. Alvarez,' he said, coldly. Hopefully the man had captured Almeida, and solved a major headache.

'Mr. Hammond,' began a voice, irritation sounding over the line clearly. 'Why was I not informed about your search for Tony Almeida? As head of Baja California's intelligence agency, you owed it to me to let me know'.

Hammond cleared his throat, hoping to placate him. 'Ah, Mr. Alvarez, ah, it all happened rather suddenly,' he began.

It appeared "Miguel" remained dissatisfied. 'I understand that, but the police were notified yesterday morning. When exactly did you plan on letting us know? We're supposed to work together, right?'

'Right, and we are,' Hammond told him, remembering why he had failed to exchange more than a few words with him on his trip. He reminded him too clearly of Almeida.

'It sure doesn't appear that way, from here,' Alvarez continued. 'What did he do, anyway?'

'Now Mr. Alvarez, I'm sure you realize that it's classified,' Hammond exclaimed.

'Yes, I do. I wonder whether you realize that this is MY country. I noticed a couple of your agents crossed the boarder this morning. Unless you tell me why you are hunting Tony Almeida, I'll have them picked up and deported!'

Hammond gazed at his phone, speechless. He was being threatened by a man Tony's age, who had spent the entire evening at the party eyeing the female agents, charming the lot of them. 'Alright, Mr. Alvarez, let me apologize again for causing offence. It was unintentional,' he heard himself saying. 'Almeida is wanted for treason, selling intel to rogue states, and terrorist groups.'

'Selling intel?' the voice echoed, amazed.

'Yes. He's highly dangerous, take care.'

'Dangerous?'

'Yes, he is. He's armed too. I'm asking you to back up the police and use your agents to locate Almeida and secure him till we arrive.'

'Secure him?' repeated the voice, disbelievingly.

'Yes, arrest him. Use several restraints; he's good at escaping custody.'

'Arrest him?' echoed the voice.

Hammond stirred impatiently. 'Do you need an interpreter, Mr. Alvarez? Yes, arrest him and hold him till we arrive to bring him back.'

The voice on the other end was no longer incredulous, it was hard. 'My English is fine, Mr. Hammond. I was thinking maybe there is something wrong on your end, with your br…Never mind. Your agents may search for him, and we will too, but let me make one thing very clear. I will not have any of them using lethal force in his capture. Should that happen, that agent will be prosecuted under MY law.'

'All our agents have been instructed to capture him alive,' Hammond muttered, clenching his fists. 'We need him to answer a few questions.'

'Aha. Now if you'd give me the number of his lawyer…'

'I wouldn't know that, Mr. Alvarez.'

'Then I'd appreciate your finding out and letting me know. Almeida has certain rights while he is here. Good day, Mr. Hammond.' The phone was laid down before Hammond could reply.

Hammond cursed under his breath, sick of the whole affair.

* * *

It was dark when Tony next opened his eyes. He turned his head slowly, jumping in fright as something slid over his face. He pulled it off rapidly, forgetting to use his left hand only in his panic, rewarded by a jolt of pain along his right arm. A damp cloth lay on the pillow beside him and he sighed, breathing heavily. He sat up and looked around, pulling his jeans on before he pushed the door open and crossed the dark room, emerging into the candle lit kitchen. Both the old man and woman got up in a hurry as he pushed the door open, before the old man spoke.

'You're not well at all; you'll have to stay at least another day. Don't be frightened, you're quite safe here. Look, I'll help you back to bed.'

They brought him a bowl of soup later that evening, handing him his tablets. Tony swallowed them down and ate his dinner, waiting while they took his fever. '41C,' they told him, 105F he translated automatically. No wander he failed to stop the room spinning round him when he attempted to walk. He coughed again, his ribs aching from the constant jerking. The woman handed him something in a cup, dipping a spoon inside.

'Take it,' she said. 'Your medicines might help, but they will take a few days. This will help you too.'

Tony swallowed the spoonful obediently, a grimace crossing his face. 'Ahhg,' he said, grabbing his glass of water and swallowing some. 'What is it?'

'Some local herbs that are good for the chest, and some honey, to make it taste better,' she told him, smiling gently. 'You'll have to have it all, Señor?'

'My name is Tony,' he told them, allowing them to prop him up. 'All of that?' he asked, gazing at the thick brown liquid in the cup.

'Sí, all of it. You'll breathe better.' Tony sighed and allowed her to feed him the contents of the cup, shuddering in disgust. 'Good, now you must sleep again.' She laid another wet cloth on his forehead and tucked him up.

'What if someone comes to search the house at night,' Tony protested. 'You'll never hear them till its too late, and you'll be in real trouble too.'

'This is my house, Tony. Let me worry about that,' the old man told him, placing a hand on his good shoulder. 'You just concentrate on getting better. Buenas noches.'


	8. Further Inland

A hand pressed tightly over his mouth woke Tony, who stirred in alarm, struggling to remember where he was. 'Tony, get up. Quickly,' the old man instructed, pulling him out of bed. 'There are cars down the road, and nobody ever drives here at night. I'm going to hide you.'

He helped Tony up rapidly and the old woman entered, removing the sheets and replacing them with fresh ones. Tony found himself pushed through the dark house, emerging into a moonlit night. His ears picked up the sound of talking somewhere in the distance and the hairs rose on his arms. 'Come on, we got to go now,' the man told him, supporting his weakened body as they hurried away from the house. A few meters from the door he knelt down and brushed away some soil, grasping a stone ring. Tony watched silently as he pulled it up, revealing a dim hole. 'There are spaces for your feet,' he was told. 'Now are you strong enough to climb down?'

'Sí,' he agreed, knowing he could do it.

'Ok, so go now. You need to be absolutely silent until I come for you.' His sheets and damp clothes were thrown down before him and he helped Tony lower himself into the hole and waited till he moved a few rungs down. 'Don't be too frightened, they can't find you here.' The blanket from his bed was thrown down last. He closed the lid and Tony heard earth replaced above him as he reached the bottom of the hole, wrapping himself in the blanket. He sat absolutely still, attempting to calm his nerves.

For a while all was silent in the dried out well. Tony leaned against the wall, his back supported by a stone, knees drawn up to his chest. Despite the assurances he had heard he was frightened, dreading being captured. Judging by the words under his picture, he was wanted at any cost, and this time he would not survive his interrogation. If by some chance they merely sent him directly to Federal, he would be forced to commit suicide, knowing he was unable to face further prison time. 'Please God, don't let them find me,' he prayed, a feeling of shame rushing through him the moment he finished. 'I'm real sorry, please don't let this old couple be caught either,' he continued. 'They're real decent, I was wrong to have stayed.' Tense minutes passed while he waited, ears straining to pick up the sound of a car.

Sick with dread, Tony heard a car draw up to the house, and several people got out. 'Alright, you two take a look around. I'll speak to the people. God I'm getting sick of these illiterate peasants,' a voice complained. 'The moment we find that bastard Almeida I'll kick his arse myself. Bloody dog nearly bit me in that other place!'

'There doesn't appear to be one here, sir' someone informed him.

'Hah.' Tony heard a loud bang, followed almost immediately by a second before the door opened. The person knocking moved inside and the door was shut, leaving him unable to hear the conversation. He buried his face in his hand, dismayed to feel the heat. There was no chance of him being strong enough to leave the next day, and there was no way he could stay either, risking the safety of his hosts.

Doors opened all around him as the outbuildings were searched. The cover of the well he had drawn water from the day before was removed and replaced with a loud bang, echoing like a shot in the silence. Tony's heart pounded as he sat motionless, praying they would leave.

'And if you see him, be sure not to approach him, he is armed and has killed several people.'

'Alright señor, if we see anyone here, we will go to town and tell the policeman,' the old man said. Tony heard the car doors close and a moment later the engine was started up. Silence reclaimed the night, his heart gradually slowing as the minutes passed.

The lid was drawn back and a candle held down. 'Tony, are you ok?'

'Sí,' he called, using the stone wall to pull himself up. He gazed at the footholds, doubting whether he would have the strength to climb them. _Pull yourself together, Almeida! You'll climb up there this instant; you certainly can't stay down here. Haven't you disrupted this couple enough? _Placing his hand in the first hole he began his slow journey upwards, forced to use his injured arm to steady himself as his left hand felt for the next hole. He said a silent thank you to sergeant Wills years ago at boot camp who had trained them all to climb using their feet and one arm, the other tied behind them. Without that training he would have been tempted to remain in a miserable heap on the floor, rather than fight his way up, eyes trained above him.

They pulled him out at the top and helped him over to the house, tucking him back into a freshly made bed. 'Have a drink, Tony,' the woman said, handing him a fresh glass of water.

'Gracias,' he said, hunting for his painkillers. They watched while he took two, concerned for him. 'I don't know how to thank you,' he said softly. 'You don't even know me.'

'You are our visitor.' The man sighed and Tony stared at him.

'They said things about me?' he questioned, and the man nodded. 'Would you tell me?'

'Why not? They said you killed many people, that you're a dangerous terrorista, that you sold names of foreign agents abroad and they got killed.' He avoided Tony's eyes.

Tony pressed his eyes shut. 'I fought in the Gulf, I was stationed there for 8 years,' he said softly. 'I was a sniper. We were at war. Afterwards I was responsible for taking out several militants; I got my orders from my captain. Later I was a federal agent; there were a few shoot outs. I never killed anyone except in the line of duty.' He sighed, hoping to convince them they hadn't helped a traitor. 'I was never a terrorist and I didn't sell anyone's name abroad or anywhere at all. They needed to pin it on someone, and that was me.'

'So why don't you explain?' the old man asked.

Tony pointed to his burn marks. 'I tried. They didn't believe me. I'll go tomorrow, I can't stay, it's not safe for you.'

'You're staying in bed tomorrow,' the woman told him.

'Sí. When you able to travel, in few days, I'll take you in a small truck. Now you must rest. Buenas noches.'

Tony shook his head, aware the right thing would be to leave silently at night, but unable to stand without swaying. Realistically, if he did sneak out, he would fail to reach the road, let alone put any distance between himself and the couple. Deeply frustrated with his weakness, he lay back.

They woke him in the morning, bringing him a slice of bread with honey and a mug. Tony's eyes lit up, smelling the contents of the mug before it was laid in front of him. Mouth watering, he ate and drank, taking his medicines. His fever was taken again, it was a little lower. The woman entered, bringing another cup of liquid which she handed to him. Tony ate it reluctantly, sipping coffee to kill the bitter taste, while she supervised him. 'You must let us see that arm now,' she told him, and he lay back while they removed his bandages and examined his wound.

'Tony, that is bad, it's too deep for me to remove,' the man told him. 'When you arrive at your destination you must see a doctor immediately.'

'I will,' he promised, hoping it would be that simple.

He spent the following two days in bed, while his fever went lower and his cough eased. Only his arm caused him intense pain which he attempted to keep from his kind hosts. If they knew how much he was hurting despite the painkillers they would risk everything to call him a doctor.

On the second evening he was well enough to eat dinner in the kitchen, enjoying the taste of food. They watched him carefully and he wondered what they had decided to do about him. 'Tony, you are well again, able to continue your journey. Tomorrow I will take you part of the way in my truck. I can hide you, it won't be too comfortable but it will be a lot faster than walking.'

Tony shook his head, deeply moved. 'I can't let you do that, Felipe. They'll be watching the roads. I'll walk; I've been trained to cross unfriendly territory…'

They shook their heads, insisting on giving him a lift. 'I can see your arm hurts you, a doctor has to see it soon or it will go bad,' the old man told him, piling more food onto his plate. 'We'll leave at dawn.'

Tony nodded his head and thanked them, helping one handed as they piled boxes of vegetables in the truck. A cool wind blew, he returned to his room to find the old coat they had lent him. 'Where would you put me?' he asked, handing the final box up.

'You'll have to ride in one of the crates,' the old man said. 'Don't worry, it will work out. Now get some sleep, we'll leave before sunrise.'

* * *

Tony's father slipped his arm closer round his wife, determined to comfort her. 'Sweetheart, he has a reason for not coming. We know Tony was 'questioned' and had to go to a medical room to rest. They said he escaped and took a man hostage. It doesn't add up, but it sounds as though he's ok. Jack would have called us by now if he wasn't. He's probably on the run and needs to lie low for a while.'

His wife nodded, raising pain filled eyes to his. 'How long is a "while" Marco? 'Days, weeks, months? I really can't understand why Jack didn't call us.'

'Because he couldn't,' Tony's father told her, stroking her hair. 'I've been thinking about it, Rita. He said he'd find Tony; he'd go see him and then come back. I think he went to see Tony, and then Tony escaped…He probably felt he couldn't come visit us this soon.'

Tony's mother stopped, her eyes oblivious to the park they walked in. 'You don't think Jack had anything to do with his escape? That would be crazy, everyone knows they're friends.'

'Sweetheart, someone will tell us one day. In the meantime, we'll pray for Tony, and wait for word. Michelle will get back next week. She'll come tell us what's going on. Don't worry, he'll contact us. We'll see him again, I promise.'

* * *

They shook him awake before dawn, for he had fallen asleep despite his excitement. The old woman handed him breakfast and a mug of coffee. He ate rapidly, eager to move further from the boarder, yet reluctant to leave the hospitality of the elderly couple. He wondered idly whether his cousin would be half as helpful as they had been. 'Get your things, Tony, we have to go now,' the old man told him as finished the last piece of bread.

Tony nodded, and returned to "his" room, pulling on his clothes. He gazed round a final time and picked up his sweater, touched to notice it had been ironed and the torn sleeve patched. 'Gracias,' he said, receiving a hug from the woman. 'I won't forget your kindness.'

'God protect you, Tony,' she told him, handing him a flask. 'Put that into the crate with you, and enjoy the coffee.'

Tony laughed aloud, thanking her again. He climbed onto the truck and settled into an empty crate, waiting patiently while carrots were piled around him.

'Can you breathe?' asked the man, slightly disconcerted to find no trace of his guest.

'Sí.'

'Ok, we'll go then. Yell if it gets too bumpy!'

The truck started up, shaking him badly as it moved over the driveway. Tony found himself enveloped in a cloud of dust mixed with diesel fumes, his throat rasping. Once out on the open road the truck gathered speed, bumping over the uneven surface, forcing Tony to grit his teeth as the carrots pressed against his injured arm. He pulled the flask out from under him and attempted to position it near his wound, to prevent further injury. Despite the two painkillers he had taken after breakfast his arm throbbed, sending waves of agony through him.

_Focus, Almeida. Every second you're moving further from the border, closer to safety. All you have to do is endure this trip and you'll be well on your way to Pedro, and he'll get you a doctor and lend you some money, and you can disappear for good_. He shut his eyes, longing to rub his face. He didn't have any desire to disappear, he wanted to return home and be told the mole was found, receive a reprimand for his hacking and be allowed to focus on searching for a new position.

They pulled off the road in a quiet spot and the old man helped Tony out. 'Have some bread,' he said, handing over a slice of bread with a piece of cheese. Tony thanked him and ate rapidly, nervous of being exposed. They continued the journey shortly after, Tony's arm protesting more at every pothole.

'Tony, can you hear me?' Felipe asked, an hour after they had stopped for lunch.

'Sí,' he answered, the hairs on his arms rising.

'There's a road block ahead. I can't turn round anymore, they've seen me, and it's exposed ground. Just lie where you are in silence, and we'll go through.'

'Ok,' he replied, pulling Hammond's gun closer. If discovered he would pretend to have taken the old man hostage, an act they all believed him capable of. He prayed for help and remained motionless, barely breathing as the truck slowed.

'Out of the truck,' ordered an authoritative voice. 'License and registration.'

Tony was unable to see anything except parts of the sky from where he lay, but he heard the dashboard opened and papers rustling. 'Ok, they're in order. What are taking and where are you heading?'

'I'm taking vegetables to market. After that I'm going to visit my son in Matachic,' replied the old man steadily, his voice betraying no fear.

'How long do you plan on staying there?'

'I can't know that now, señor. Maybe one day, maybe two or three. Depends how soon his wife will get tired of me.'

'Alright, take a look at this picture. Have you seen this man anywhere?'

A few seconds passed. 'No señor, I haven't. Is he dangerous?'

'Extremely, and he's armed. Now open the truck and let me take a look inside.'

'Sí señor.'

The truck's side was lowered and a man climbed aboard, peering into the crates. Tony's finger tightened on the trigger as he moved a few carrots aside, relaxing slightly as the man left.

'Ok, you may go. Don't forget to call the police if you see that man.'

'Thank you, señor.' The truck started up again and Tony resisted the urge to peer over the side, lying motionless as they pulled past several police cars and continued. 'Are you ok, Tony?' questioned the old man several minutes later, driving over smoother ground.

'Aha. But you got to stop and let me out now, it's not safe for you to take me any further. I'll be fine.'

'Why? We've passed a checkpoint; there won't be another for ages. I'll take you a little further, save you walking.' They drove for several hours, the noise of the engine the only sound in the stillness. Tony allowed himself to drift off, knowing he would wake up the moment his name was called. His eyes opened instantly they pulled to the side and he grabbed the gun, chiding himself for having fallen asleep. 'It's ok, Tony, I'm just refueling.' He forced himself to stay awake after that.

Around midnight the truck stopped again. Tony climbed out of the crate and jumped over the edge of the truck, waiting while the old man walked over to him. They gazed at each other silently for a moment before the old man looked away. 'I can't take you any further, Tony. It would be too suspicious at this hour, with those vegetables.'

'You took me a lot further than you should have,' Tony told him, holding out his hand. 'Gracias Felipe. I'll never forget your kindness. Here,' he pulled off his watch, handing it over. 'Take it. For the food, for the ride, and for the trouble I put you through. I haven't got any money.'

Felipe stared at him shocked, handing him back his watch. 'NO. You think I would take the only thing you got? I only wish we had some money to give you. I have something else though.' He opened the driver's door and emerged with a pair of worn sandals. 'They're about your size; I found them by the road. We repaired it, so it should last till you arrive in the center.'

Tony shook his head; aware the shoes would be needed by the man himself, or traded for some other essential. 'I can't.'

'You must. How far do you think you'll get barefoot? Put them on.' Tony sat on the side of the road and pulled them on, noting they were a little large. He fastened the straps tighter and stood up.

'They're fine. Gracias.'

Felipe smiled at him, delighted the shoes fit. 'I got one more thing for you,' he said, opening the door again. Tony shook his head, watching as he pulled out a sombrero. 'It'll be real warm where you're going, and you didn't have a hat,' he explained. 'No, don't say anything,' he continued, as Tony opened his mouth. 'With the old jeans, the sandals, the sombrero and the patched sweater, no one will look at you twice. You'll look like some other peasant come to the city for work.'

Tony laughed aloud, amused by the description. 'Sí, you're right. Felipe, they're perfect. You must take the watch.' Once again he pushed it over, placing it in his pocket.

'Now Tony, what do you think Maria would say to me, if I returned with it?' the old man questioned reproachfully. 'What would God think? Maybe one day, if they find out you're innocent and you get to go home, you could send us a note.' He took the watch from his pocket and handed it back, closing Tony's fingers round it.

'You got it,' he agreed, deeply moved. He would do a lot more than that, too.

'Now we'll eat dinner together, and then you must go,' Felipe told him, handing out a few sandwiches. They ate slowly, unwilling to part. Felipe was clearly worried about him, and Tony knew he would miss his company. Finally they finished and Tony rose, his eyes searching the silent road ahead of them.

'I must go now. Adiós!' The old man reached forward and gave him a hug. Tony returned it, wondering whether anyone else would ever care about him again. He watched in silence as Felipe climbed back into the truck and turned it round, heading backwards. Once the headlights were no longer visible in the darkness he turned and set off further south, aware of the days of walking before him.


	9. Pedro

Pedro's last known address proved correct. Tony circled the block for the third time, triple checking it was not being watched before he pushed the gate open. It creaked slightly as he shut it behind him, and he walked rapidly up the garden path. The door opened before he could press the bell, and a thug looked him over.

'Who are you? What do you want?' he demanded harshly, his face expressing his disdain.

Tony blinked, wondering whether his cousin had moved yet again. 'I'm here to see Pedro Rosales,' he said, gazing hopefully at the stranger. Maybe he could tell him where his cousin was, even if he had moved.

The man spat on the step, narrowly missing Tony's sandals. 'How dare you come to the house? If you need work, you'll have to ask him tomorrow, at the site. Now get lost!'

Tony folded his arms, his thoughts whirling through his head. 'What site?' he asked, unable to think of anything better to say.

The thug stared at him again. 'The building site, of course! How many sites do you think there are? Who are you, anyway?'

'Pedro will know, when he sees me,' Tony replied. 'I really need to see him.'

'You and a dozen others. Señor Rosales WILL NOT be blackmailed. Nor does he give back pay! Now I suggest you get lost before I'll shoot you.'

Tony opened his mouth and closed it again, too startled to think of a single sentence.

'Who is it, Angelo?' demanded a voice from within.

'Some peasant,' the thug replied. 'I was just getting rid of him, señor.'

'No, wait,' Tony demanded, slipping past the thug and entering a dark passage. 'Pedro, its Tony. Don't you recognize me?'

'Come through,' Pedro called and Tony entered a large cream tiled family room. His cousin's mouth fell open when he saw his disheveled appearance. 'My God, Tony, you resemble an illiterate mountain rebel! Last I heard you were in prison serving a life sentence. I found it hard to believe, but now…'

'They pardoned me,' Tony said shortly, moving over to an armchair. The last five days on the road had worn him out, and his arm throbbed.

'Hey, don't even think of sitting there!' Pedro exclaimed, pushing him away. 'That furniture is new. Angelo,' he called, and the thug appeared. 'Bring a garden chair in, would you.'

'Sí, Señor. Another penniless relative, I take it.'

'Sí,' Pedro agreed, his eyes never leaving Tony. 'Sit there,' he said, once Angelo had produced an old wooden chair. 'What brings you here, to me? I haven't seen you since Abuelo's funeral.' Tony's heart clenched and he looked away hurriedly. 'Oh, cousin! Don't tell me you still miss the old man? Well and why wouldn't you? You were his favorite. All year we were there, Jose and me, and then the summer would arrive, and he would start getting excited. "Tony will come soon." That's all he ever thought about, seeing you.' He glared at the astonished Tony. 'Whenever the mail came he'd search through it, and if you wrote we all had to listen. It was easy for you rich Americans. Huge house, expensive private school, of course you got good grades.'

'We never had a big house,' Tony protested, worried by the vehemence. 'And I got a scholarship; my parents would never have been able to afford that school.'

'Whatever you say,' Pedro retorted. 'And after all that, he leaves you a block!'

'Come on Pedro,' Tony cried, irritated. 'He left you and Jose 5 each. He only left me that one because I went to visit him every year. You know what he used to think about? "Where is Pedro? I hope I'll see him again one day". But you never bothered to show up.'

'Easy, cousin,' Pedro growled, his eyes flickering. 'As I see it, it's you here in my house, dressed like a pauper. Did they really pardon you, or did you pardon yourself, I wonder?'

Tony's face turned red. 'They pardoned me, alright. You can check.' He knew his cousin would do no such thing.

'Hhm. So then why are you on the run?' He gazed at Tony, challenging him.

Tony returned the gaze, refusing to back down, reminded of their constant fights back in his grandfather's house. 'I managed to piss someone off,' he admitted.

A smile spread across his cousin's face. 'Well well well. Tony Almeida gets sent to prison, but then of course he gets a pardon, and why not, with all those influential friends. And soon after he gets out he manages to piss off some important dude and has to, how shall we put it, leave in a little hurry.' He stared pointedly at Tony's outfit, shaking his head. 'Is that right?'

'Something like that,' Tony agreed.

'And you came to me. Why would you do that, unless it's because I'm hard to trace?' Pedro eyed him suspiciously. 'What do you need, Tony?'

Tony rubbed his face, hating to ask anything from the cousin who bore him such obvious animosity, but knowing he had no other relative he could approach safely.

'Come on, what's the problem? Everyone comes begging from me, and I refuse them all. What do you need?'

Tony tilted his head, reading hostility in his cousin's eyes. 'I'm not here to beg for anything, just to borrow,' he said. 'I'll repay everything, you can count on it.'

Pedro laughed aloud. 'Repay! What with? What have you got, cousin? You obviously lack access to your bank accounts.'

'I'll repay you from my wages, as soon as I get a job,' Tony promised.

'So how much do you need?' Pedro pressed. 'And what for? Somehow, a man on the run doesn't get a legitimate job too easily. You're planning on going a lot further, and then I can kiss my money goodbye.'

'I said I'd repay you everything, alright,' Tony snapped. 'You're right, I'm lying low for a while, I'd need to leave the country. I need enough to leave Mexico and to live somewhere for a couple of weeks.'

Pedro laughed aloud, getting up to turn on the ceiling fan. Warm air brushed Tony's hair, ruffling the top strands. 'We're talking about how much, 4000 dollars? You really imagine I'd lend you that much?' He paused in front of Tony, arms folded.

Tony raised his head, nodding. 'Yeah, I think you would. You got dozens of accounts, you wouldn't even notice it. And like I said, it would only be for a coupla weeks.'

Pedro shrugged. 'You're right, I wouldn't miss it. Top marks for following my affairs so closely, cousin. But why would I wish to lend you anything?' He leaned closer to Tony, the smell of cigars wafting over to him. 'Why should I care? Give me one good reason.' His eyes bore into Tony's, crinkling in amusement as Tony remained silent. 'I know what you're thinking, Tony. I want to hear you say it. Tell me - "You should lend me the money, Pedro, to make up for the sound beating Abuelo gave me when he found the money you stole from the church." Say it, Tony!'

Tony nodded slowly. 'Alright, Pedro. You brought it up, not me. You owe me an apology at the very least. Why couldn't you just have hidden it? Why put it in my jacket? I didn't deserve that, I never done anything to you.'

Pedro slapped the coffee table, bringing Angelo in to glance round the room. He was waved away and his cousin turned to regard him. 'You were a fool, Tony. You dropped my cards into the collection box!'

'And I apologized and said I'd get them out for you, right. And I did,' Tony told him, indignantly. 'All I asked is that you hold the box while I open it, and you didn't even do that.'

'I did!'

'Not real well,' he hissed. 'The whole thing fell down, if you remember. I picked your cards up and while I was doing that you helped yourself to some money. And then back at home when Abuelo sent us to our room and chewed us out for daring to throw cards in the box and sneak back into Church and try to retrieve it, you hid the money on me. And when he found it, you kept silent.'

Pedro grinned at him in genuine amusement. 'Of course I did. Finally the perfect Tony gets into trouble. And you're still mad about it.'

'Just forget it, ok,' Tony told him, rubbing his arm. 'Will you lend me anything, Pedro, or not.' He massaged his arm directly beneath the wound, sick with pain. His medicines had been finished on the road the day before, and he knew he would have to get hold of some more.

'What happened to your arm,' Pedro asked, avoiding his question.

'I got shot,' he admitted reluctantly. 'Have you got anything for pain?'

Pedro looked interested for the first time. 'Let me take a look,' he ordered, and helped Tony off with the sweater. 'Oh, sí, that's deep. Angelo, come here. You think you can take that bullet out?'

Angelo examined his arm, before shaking his head. 'No señor, I can't. It's too deep. Only a doctor can remove that.'

Pedro got up and washed his hands, moving over to a kitchen cupboard. Tony leaned back on the chair, struggling with the extra pain of having the bandage removed and his arm examined. 'Here,' Pedro told him, handing him two white tablets and a glass of water. 'Take that. You got any money for a doctor, Tony?'

Tony swallowed the tablets down, draining the entire glass before he laid it on the coffee table and shook his head. 'No.'

'Well, he'll need some payment. He'd accept that,' Pedro told him, pointing to Tony's watch. You willing to part with it?'

Tony nodded. 'Sí. But it's worth several hundred dollars; it's more than what he would earn.'

Pedro leaned closer to him. 'Look, cousin. You're on the run, right? What kind of doctor do you think would come see you? The same who comes to see any of the injuries on the site, and he keeps his mouth shut. He's got to buy the bandages and medicines from somewhere too, so yes, he does charge more than most.' He picked up a phone, telling a doctor that he had a bad cold and needed to be examined at his house that evening. 'Ok, he'll come.'

'Gracias, Pedro,' Tony said softly. He closed his eyes, wishing he would be permitted to enter a bedroom and sleep. 'I'll go right after he fixed my arm.'

'You want the money, or not?' Pedro demanded, slightly put out. He obviously enjoyed hearing people begging him for help, but Tony had had enough.

'You know I need it, but I can see I won't get any,' he answered tiredly. The five days of walking, hiding from any passing traffic had taken their toll. He felt he could sleep for a week if left uninterrupted.

Pedro frowned. 'Well, I don't lend anyone anything - never did. But I got plenty of jobs going. If you want the money, Tony, you'll have to earn it, just like everyone else.'

Tony opened his eyes and sat straighter. 'Work for it? Pedro, I'm kinda hiding out, at the moment.'

'I know,' his cousin replied, opening the door to call for Angelo. 'Tell Isabella to get lunch, would you. Fact is I got several building contracts, and dozens of men working on the sites for me. They won't report you. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror recently? You look just like they do. Anyway, they're all foreigners, they lie low after work.'

The door opened again and a woman brought two plates of soup, glancing enquiringly at Pedro. 'Take it to the garden, Isabella,' Pedro instructed her. 'You look a little hungry, cousin! If you want something to eat, you'll have to sit outside.'

Tony got up rapidly, his stomach rumbling. He had eaten nothing beyond a few wild plants and occasional vegetables that he discovered for the past five days. Beyond caring what happened anymore he settled at a wooden table and ate ravenously, finishing his entire bowl before Pedro settled opposite. His cousin laughed aloud, staring at his plate in astonishment. 'You liked the soup, Tony! You really are on the run! Ok, well, you'll just have to wait till I finish mine, and then you'll get something else.'

Presently Isabella appeared and brought two plates of pollo en mole, removing the soup bowls. 'Gracias, it was very good,' Tony thanked her, earning him a shy smile.

Pedro rapped sternly on the table. 'Tony! She works here; you don't need to thank her. I pay her well enough. Now then, are you willing to work for the money?'

'Yeah,' Tony replied. 'You said the men working for you are foreigners. Where are they from?'

'All over the place, really,' Pedro answered in a bored tone. 'South America, Central America, and some from Asia, Africa, etc. Who really even knows? They're all here for one reason only, to move to the US. They just all discover, sooner or later, that the middleman costs more than they bargained for, and they're forced to lie low and get some cash. That's where I come in, cousin, I always pay cash!'

Tony ate silently, remembering his grandfather's regrets over Pedro. "He's turned into a real crook, Tony, just like his father. I really tried, but he's got bad blood in him. Would you do me a favor?" He had nodded. "Of course. Anything." "Well, one day he'll get himself into real trouble." Tony had nodded, agreeing with the old man's astute assessment of the situation. "I want you to help him when it happens, you're his cousin. Do it for me, Tony, so I can rest in peace." Tony wiped his mouth and sighed. _What would you think if you saw us now, Abuelo? He's a crook, and I'm a fugitive._

'Thanks for lunch, Pedro,' he said once the plates had been removed.

'Don't thank me,' Pedro replied, waving him to a deck chair. 'I'll take it out of your pay. Now have a rest, and then have a shower before the doctor gets here.'

* * *

'Hey Jack,' Michelle said as he answered the door. They held each other's gaze for a few seconds before he reached for his jacket and followed her wordlessly outside. An icy wind blew her hair over her face once they reached the street and she stopped, tying it together in a pony-tail. 'Where is he?' she asked, watching his reactions.

Jack shook his head. 'I don't know, Michelle,' he admitted, noting her determined expression. It was going to be a difficult meeting, he could already tell. 'I don't think he wants anyone to know his whereabouts,' he said.

'What's going on?' she asked, keeping pace with him despite her high heels and business suit. 'Tony hacks in, he gets caught, they interrogate him and he escapes, after you visited him! I would've expected more from the pair of you. Surely you're aware his escape multiplied his guilty appearance a dozen times over?' She stopped, forcing him to stop as well. 'Why couldn't he have stayed put and waited for his evidence to be corroborated?'

'Michelle, Hammond was in charge of the interrogation,' Jack said, gazing at the sidewalk. He had agonized over his actions every night since Tony's escape, uncertain what the best decision would have been. 'I saw him for myself, and I couldn't just walk away from him. No matter how guilty he seems, at least he's free. They wouldn't have let him go, Michelle.' He reached forward and squeezed her hand, sorry for her.

Michelle brushed a curl from her eyes, wiping away a hot tear in the process. 'Did they hurt him?' she asked, dreading the answer. 'Only Mr. Hodgeson has access to the footage of his interrogation.'

Jack took a deep breath, reluctant to upset her further. 'Yeah, but he was ok when I saw him.'

Michelle's eyes met his own, refusing to allow him to look away. 'What do you mean "he was ok?"' she questioned, unable to leave the matter. 'I know you well, Jack. "He was ok" – does that mean he was fine, or that he was still alive? Which one?' she demanded, holding her voice steady with her final ounce of willpower.

Jack squirmed under her steady gaze. 'Neither,' he told her, longing to look away. He would hate arguing with her. It was no wonder his friend always apologized for every argument they had, he thought, knowing he would do the same rather than face her indignation.

She appeared to accept it. 'What makes you so certain he had no other choice than to run?' she asked softly. 'Look Jack, I know he was looking for more people responsible for blowing up that ship. I know he hacked into District. What else did he do? I need to find out somehow, to help him.'

Jack took her arm, drawing her closer to him until they stood inches apart. 'Don't even try going there,' he warned, his blue eyes hard as steel. 'The last thing, the absolute LAST THING Tony would want is for you to get involved.' He shook his head, watching her determination. 'Hell, he adores you. I never saw him so riled up as the day he went to exchange you for Saunder's daughter. There was something I didn't tell you. When I caught up with him, he begged me to help him make the exchange, and he told me if I helped him he would turn himself in, go to prison, do whatever it took to get you back safely. He kinda knew what he would face. He hasn't changed. You need to stay out of this, Michelle.'

Michelle's face turned red under his scrutiny and her eyes flashed. He found himself taking a step backward, followed by a second one as she moved after him. 'If either of you think I'm going to abandon Tony, you're deluded! I know what he sacrificed for me.' She wiped her eyes, furious with her tears. 'Either you tell me what's going on, or I'll find someone to hack in too and…'

Jack took her arm more gently. 'I'll tell you what little I know, ok? He was gathering data about two department heads, Thomas and Lachlan. From what Chloe showed me, the mole could be either one. Thing is, one of them must have changed some data, for it appears that Tony sold confidential information over the past few weeks. We both know he wouldn't have, but that's not enough to save him. Even Chloe can't untangle the web the mole is hiding under. They won't just lock Tony away this time,' he finished, taking her hand again.

'So what can I do to help? I got to visit his family tonight, what do I tell them?' she asked, deeply depressed.

'I've got Chloe working on it,' he said, resuming their walk towards her car. 'She's gonna need a little more time to unravel anything. In the meantime there's nothing we can do except wait patiently. You got that, Michelle? He did use your passwords to hack in, after all. It's vital you stay out of it! They haven't recaptured him,' he added, hoping to end the conversation on a positive note.

'They shot him. He's wounded – I don't know how bad. He could be dead in some hole, for all we know,' she said, struggling to keep her voice calm.

Jack shook his head again. 'I know him, Michelle. He's no fool. If he was injured badly they would have caught him. As they didn't, I'm guessing it's a flesh wound, and he can take care of that. He'll let us know when he needs help. Are you going to his parents tonight?'

'I must,' she said, dreading the visit.

'Do me a favor. Don't mention me at all. Chloe tells me their house is bugged.' He stopped, lowering his voice. 'When Tony calls, I want to be ready to help him.'

She nodded. 'So do I. You got my word, Jack.'

* * *

'Mr. Hammond, sir, it's Mr. Hodgeson from District,' his secretary told him, sounding slightly nervous.

'Thank you, I'll take it in my office,' Hammond replied, hurrying into the room. He sank onto his chair frustrated, taking a breath before he pushed a button on his phone. 'Mr. Hodgeson, sir. What can I do for you?' 'As though I haven't a clue,' he thought to himself bitterly. 'He wants to know what we're doing about Almeida, and I haven't a clue where that pain in the ass is!'

'Mr. Hammond,' Hodgeson began, without any polite preamble. 'What's the progress on locating Almeida?'

Hammond cleared his throat uneasily. The man always sounded so impatient, it almost seemed as though he expected him to peer into a crystal ball and locate the man. 'Sir, we're still searching for him,' he was forced to admit.

Hodgeson sounded upset. 'What exactly do you mean, still looking for him, Brad? Have you got any clues you're following, any leads? Anything at all? Or are you telling me Almeida vanished into thin air?'

Hammond managed to hold back his groan. A few more days of fruitless searching for Almeida, and he could kiss all hopes of further promotion goodbye. Once again he cursed Tony, wishing him to the deepest realms of hell. 'Sir, let me assure you I got six agents working on it, as well as working closely with Mexican Intelligence. They haven't managed to locate him either,' he added in his defense.

Hodgeson snorted indignantly. 'Brad, I'm sure you're aware our mole is also searching for Almeida. The country is crawling with agents from District. Should he locate him first, he'll shoot him and dump the body, and we'll be no closer in our uncovering him than we are now. It is essential you get to Almeida before that happens. You've had what, eight days to find him. I need results soon. Find him, Brad! Whatever it takes, just do it.'

'Yes sir,' Hammond agreed, cutting the line. He pulled the large map of Mexico open on his desk and studied it in silence. How in the world could he find one person there, among all the others?


	10. Jack's Mission

Filled with reluctance, Pedro showed him to the bathroom. 'There you are, Tony. Upstairs, the first door on the left. Don't make a mess. And dump your clothes somewhere; you can throw them in the washing machine later.'

Tony nodded his appreciation and pulled off his clothes, peeling away five days of grime. The dirt from the road and sleeping outdoors turned everything grey, including his fingernails. He stepped into the shower, pulling the glass door shut, and turned on the hot water, taking care to keep his injured right arm outside the stream. Slowly he relaxed, leaning against the tiles, loosening his stiff muscles. The door opened a few minutes later and Pedro entered, placing a clean towel beside the basin.

'Tony, I found you some old clothes. They'll fit your cover of a semi literate peasant, and at least they're clean. You may keep them.'

Tony opened the glass door and examined them. There was an undershirt with a slight tear along the side, a stretched green t-shirt that had faded several shades since its purchase with a crocodile along the top, and a pair of black jeans with threadbare knees. He glanced at his cousin in silence while Pedro grinned at him. 'Gracias,' he muttered.

'You're welcome. You can wear them to work tomorrow,' Pedro told him. 'You coming out yet.'

'In a minute,' Tony replied, returning to the warm shower. There was little reason to hurry, and his fingernails were still black. He sensed his cousin's changing attitude to his presence, from resentment to deep amusement. _Why did you have to boast about my grades to Abuelo, Papa? Now Pedro's gonna make me work till I drop for a little cash, and I can't refuse. I got nowhere else to go; I need money to move further. The bastard looks like he's gonna enjoy the next few days_! He allowed himself to relax further and found himself smiling too_. So you're gonna do some building, Almeida? Well, you better hope this doctor fixes your arm properly then_. His grin faded, replaced by a worried frown. The bullet was lodged deep, and hurt him badly; it would be hard to remove. The evening was going to be terrible, despite having shelter. He felt his heart begin to beat wildly and reached up to turn the cold water on, shocking himself out of his gathering panic. _Focus, Almeida_. The doctor had to fix his arm, the pain was becoming intolerable.

Pedro banged on the door a few minutes later. 'Tony! Are you coming out, or do you want me to charge you for the water? It costs a lot round here.'

'I was just coming,' he replied mildly, amused by his cousin's meanness. He rubbed himself dry and pulled on the clothes donated by Pedro, glancing at himself in the mirror. A tuft of hair stood up, refusing to be tidied by his fingers. A quick examination of the shelves showed him a comb, which he rinsed thoroughly under the tap before running it through his hair. Now he really needed a pair of scissors to trim his nails. He pulled open several drawers, poking through the contents as his cousin entered, furious.

'What are you doing, Tony? Spying?'

'You got to be kidding,' Tony retorted. 'You see these nails? It would be suitable only for a caveman.'

Pedro pulled open the bottom drawer and handed him a pair of scissors. 'Hurry up; the doctor will be here soon. He'll be curious, but won't ask any questions. Don't worry about him.'

Tony nodded, following him a few minutes later, his stomach knotting. He accepted a glass of water from his cousin and settled on the couch, glancing at him warily in case he objected but he remained silent.

'So what did you do this time?' Pedro asked, sitting opposite him with a beer. 'I can't offer you one now Tony, until the quack's been, in case it would interfere with his anesthetic.'

'Its ok,' Tony replied, examining the room. It was cheerful, obviously meant for a family. The walls were of pale cream, and a few pictures hung opposite the kitchen. 'I looked into something my former boss classified. He's a little annoyed at the moment.'

'He wants to kill you?' Pedro asked, glancing at him.

'Something like that, yeah,' Tony agreed.

Pedro laughed aloud, shaking his head. 'You never could mind your own business, Tony. Anyway, you'll find me rude if I don't ask after the rest of my American cousins. How are they all?'

Tony shrugged, watching a few goldfish swimming round an aquarium. 'They're fine. Anna and her husband are doing great with their tennis schools, Rita made associate professor recently, Janey's ok now, she had cancer a few years back, Marco made captain and Joey's somewhere in the north of Norway right now, at an observatory. Maria's actually been going out with the same guy for six months now, and Papa and mom are the same as usual.'

'What about your other brother, the funny one?' Pedro questioned, nothing escaping his notice. 'The one who always had the wise comments? Bobby?'

Tony got up and went to the window, staring outside into the gathering darkness. 'He's dead.' He remained in the same position, face pressed against the glass, until a knock at the door distracted him.

'Buenas tardes,' Pedro greeted the new arrival. 'Tony, the doctor's here.'

_You will NOT start shaking, Almeida!_ Tony ordered himself, turning to face the doctor.

'So what can I do for you, Señor Rosales?' questioned the doctor, glancing at Pedro.

'This peasant got himself shot entering Mexico. Remove the bullet, would you? He's a good builder.'

The doctor laid his bag on the coffee table and turned to Tony. 'It would help if I could see it,' he said, not unkindly.

Tony blushed and removed his sweater, allowing the doctor to remove the bandage. 'Ah, yes, you certainly got a bullet there. When did it happen?'

'A coupla days ago,' Tony answered, turning red under the doctor's scrutiny.

'More like a fortnight, I'd say,' remarked the doctor. 'You've been taking antibiotics, I gather?'

'Sí,' Tony admitted.

'Good. Otherwise I'd have to amputate that arm by this time. Now Señor Rosales, I'll need you to boil me a little water and fetch a few clean towels.' Pedro left the room and the doctor turned to Tony. 'I'll need you to remove that t-shirt too, Señor Almeida. And lie down on the couch.'

Tony froze, his t-shirt halfway off. 'What did you say?' he choked.

'Oh, I recognize you, of course I do. Your picture is posted all over my surgery, and every other doctor's in the country. Don't worry; your secret is safe with me. I betray you, you betray me, and I lose my license, possibly end up in jail. The t-shirt,' he reminded.

Tony pulled his clothes off and lay on the towels, his heart pounding. 'Could I ask you a favor? Don't tell…'

'Of course not,' the doctor agreed, as Pedro returned. 'Why should it hurt,' he continued. 'Now that is quite deep, it'll take well over an hour to extract and repair the damage. It's 400 dollars, Señor Rosales.'

Pedro handed him the watch which the doctor examined with interest. 'Alright, I'll take that. Now, I have to cut quite deep, part of the bullet is lodged near the bone. Do you want anesthetic? It'll be 15 dollars.'

'15 dollars!' Pedro exclaimed. 'Does he really need it?'

'Pedro,' Tony cried, horrified.

'I'd say that unless you were to bring a dozen men to hold him down, yes, he'll need it.'

'It's coming out of your pay,' Pedro hissed. 'Alright, go ahead.' He pulled a chair up to the couch and settled down, obviously used to assisting in emergencies before. Tony watched the doctor open his bag and remove what resembled a giant pair of tweezers, together with a needle, which he filled, and some knives. His heart skipped a beat and he felt his face grow hot. He stirred restlessly, sitting up.

'Lie down, señor, I'm about to administer the painkiller,' the doctor ordered. Pedro threw him a disgusted look and Tony lay back, unable to watch. He pressed his lips together, remaining silent as the needle stung him.

_I don't think I can do this, mom._ He concentrated on his breathing, forcing himself to relax.

'Relax señor, you won't feel a thing,' the doctor assured him, pulling out a stethoscope while he waited. He listened to Tony's heart, frowning. 'Señor, it really won't hurt. You must calm down, or I'll be forced to put you under, and that will cost over 200 dollars.'

'Tony, you'll relax this instant,' Pedro cried, agitated. 'He really is fine, doctor,' he assured him. 'You can start.'

* * *

The door opened before Michelle had a chance to ring the bell and she found herself wrapped into her mother-in-law's arms. 'Michelle, thank God you're back.' Michelle read the anxiety and unspoken question in her eyes and marveled at her restraint. She slipped her hand inside her pocket and pushed over a note, placing her fingers round her mouth. _Please read it. I wrote down everything I know about Tony's disappearance._

Tony's father appeared from the dining room, a glass of wine in his hands. Alert brown eyes registered the presence of the note and he gave her a slight nod. 'Michelle, I can't tell you how glad I am to see you,' he said clearly, hugging her. The hug was genuine, she knew, aware of how close they both were to her. 'What do you know about Tony?' He winked at her and she nodded back. _You're aware your house is bugged and you know whoever is listening would be suspicious if nobody asked after Tony._ She stared into the face that was so like Tony's it brought tears to her eyes.

'I don't know where he is,' she said miserably. 'They're really mad at him for his recent hacking.'

'Mad enough to put him into jail?'

'Oh yes,' she said honestly.

'We had an agent Main here,' Tony's mother told her, playing along. 'He said Tony was wanted for selling information to our enemies. He'd never do that; surely they know it by now?'

'They're still looking into it, but it's being dealt with higher up, so I don't know exactly how it's going,' she said truthfully. 'I keep asking everyday. Right now it looks bad. I wish he'd return and clear his name.'

'He'll return when he knows his name is cleared,' Tony's father told her for the benefit of the hidden microphones. 'Have a drink?' he asked and she nodded.

'Dinner is ready,' Tony's mother told her, passing the note to his father while she poured Michelle some wine. She settled in her usual place at the table, noting the empty spot beside her. Exhausted, she blinked, seeing Tony's cheeky grin as he never failed to tease her by offering a few dishes he knew she detested while she would attempt to shake her head slightly, not daring to refuse out loud for fear of causing offence. A sudden picture of Tony hurt and alone came to her and she was unable to hold her tears in.

'Hey Michelle,' Tony's father exclaimed, pulling her towards him. 'Shsh. It's gonna be ok, you'll see. I know Tony; he can take care of himself pretty well. He's okay, I would know it if he wasn't.' He bit his tongue a moment later, aware how that would sound to whoever listened to them. His wife cast him an alarmed look.

'You always know if your children are not ok,' she said gently, getting up to stroke Michelle's hair. 'You just feel it inside if you're a parent. He is ok now.'

* * *

'Sit down, Jack,' Hammond told him, nodding his head at a chair.

Jack settled down and looked emotionlessly at the man opposite him, wondering again why he was summoned. Some undercover operation was going down and had taken a turn for the worse, or Hammond would never have ordered him into Division at 8:00 in the evening.

'I'm aware of the friendship between you and Almeida,' Hammond began. 'You ran CTU together for years; you developed a professional respect for the other's judgment. I think the two of you shared something beyond that respect. Your testimony at Almeida's trial tipped the balance in favor of his life sentence, and we're aware you never stopped petitioning President Palmer for his release. We know about your visit to him in prison using an old CTU card, the day after you were fired. I also know you released him from custody down in medical.' He held up a hand as Jack attempted to interrupt. 'You're not here for that indiscretion, Jack.'

'Why am I here?' Jack asked, impatient to be told the bad news. 'I don't work for CTU anymore as you might know, Brad! Did something happen to Tony?'

'Jack, we also happen to know you visited his family before. I need you to do so again, find out where he could be. They might have some clues, but their mouths are shut tight as clams and no one can get anything out of them.'

'Brad, you don't seriously expect me to ask them to betray their son?' Jack asked, unable to believe his ears. 'Why would they tell me anyway?'

'Because Tony's life is in grave danger if they don't,' Hammond replied, staring sternly at Jack. 'What I'm about to tell you stays in this room. Chloe already checked the information he hacked into, you're aware District has a mole.'

'I am,' Jack replied. 'I understood what he was looking for an hour after she checked his information, you could have seen it too, Brad.'

'We're not here to discuss Almeida's interrogation,' Hammond replied stiffly. 'Let me continue. The mole and other heads of District have sent out teams to find him. Whenever they do so, the mole will simply show up and one of his agents will have shot Tony, whilst he was attempting to escape, of course. We expect the mole would then take out the agents, pin that on Tony, and continue his clandestine operations. Now Mr. Hodgeson asked me to send some agents to shadow him and catch the mole, but no one has had any success locating him yet. It is imperative that we do so before the mole gets to him.'

'And you think Tony's parents would just tell me where he is likely to be if I ask nicely,' Jack said. 'They don't trust anyone from CTU.'

'So tell them a story, anything you like, except the truth,' Hammond told him. 'And Jack, I'm sending you down to Mexico. I want you to shadow Almeida, but let's get one thing very clear. No one must see you there, least of all Almeida, he's supposed to act natural or the mole's agents won't approach him.'

'You're playing with Tony's life,' Jack said, frowning mildly.

'National security takes precedence. He would approve too, if he had a choice,' Hammond told him. 'Now go see his parents, then get to Mexico. I'll be expecting your calls.'

'I'm on my way, but I need to know something, Brad. When this is over, will Tony be prosecuted for hacking into District?'

Hammond sighed and shook his head. 'That's most unlikely. Mr. Hodgeson seems to be impressed with him. He'll get away with an official reprimand.'

Jack nodded. 'Thank you, Brad. Tony's parents will be glad to know that.'

* * *

'You're lucky, Tony, the bullet didn't damage the bone,' the doctor told him, holding up a bullet. 'There you are - you can keep it if you like. Now I've got to clean up the area, but the worst is over.' He smiled reassuringly at Tony, who let out a sigh of relief. 'Feel better? Good. Now I need you to remain absolutely still, ok?'

'Sí,' he agreed, turning to watch the fish in the tank. _You're doing great, Almeida! Another half hour or so, and you can go! It's almost over._ The half hour appeared to stretch into infinity, but presently the doctor laid the needle down. 'It's over. Tony, look at me. I'm going to put that arm in a sling, and you're not to do anything with it for at least a week. Is that absolutely clear?'

'Sí,' he agreed, having felt the amount of work done to repair it.

'Señor Rosales, he mustn't attempt to use that arm.' The doctor threw Pedro a meaningful look.

Once Pedro saw him to the door Tony rose, folding the towels away. He carried them to the laundry and put them in the washing machine, and pushed open the door, stepping into a moonless night. Light from the house flooded the garden and he found the deck chair and sank into it, rubbing his face. _You made it. It's ok now._ He took deep breaths, pulling himself together.

The sliding door slid open and Pedro followed him outside, shaking his head. 'That's a brave agent, ah, Tony?' He laughed aloud. 'I was worried he would have to put you under. You looked terrified.'

'You know what, Pedro,' Tony replied, his face flushing. 'You're right. I was worried about it, and so would you have been, if he was cutting your arm open. But I got through it, so you saved your 200 dollars! Now do me a favor, leave me alone for a bit, ok?'

'Sí,' Pedro agreed. 'Whatever you say, cousin. I just thought maybe you'd like to sleep inside, on a mattress, rather than out here. It will get quite cold later, and the mosquitoes are already out.'

Tony turned to face him, nodding his head. 'You're right.' He slapped at a mosquito on his face. 'Damn these things. I'd be real grateful for a bed, Pedro.'

Pedro held the door open and he stepped inside, sick with relief. He had spent the daylight hours he had been forced to remain concealed dreading the inevitable surgery on his arm, and it was over now.

Pedro led him up the stairs and along the landing, into a small spare room. A light blue cover with a matching pillowcase draped the single bed, and the blinds were open, showing a view of the center of town far in the distance. Tony opened his mouth to thank his cousin, but before he could speak Pedro had pulled open the cupboard, withdrawing a ladder. He opened it and climbed up to push open the attic, calling to Tony to follow him. Tony sighed, glancing longing round the inviting room before he climbed the ladder, emerging into a dark attic.

'It's insulated, so you won't feel too cold,' Pedro told him. 'There's a mattress on the floor there, I'll get you some sheets and a blanket. You look a little tired, you should start getting ready for bed.'

'So who's going to sleep downstairs?' Tony questioned bitterly, pulling off his t-shirt with difficulty as his arm was in a sling.

'No one at the moment. That's my guest bedroom, Tony, and you're certainly not a guest. You work for me now; you owe me 17 dollars already, for the doctor and the lunch. Come on, don't give me that look' he snapped, seeing Tony's face. 'Count yourself lucky I found you a sheltered spot. The rest of the men live in sheds, or on the building sites. Now is there anything else you need tonight?'

'Yeah,' Tony muttered, removing his shoes. 'A toothbrush, paste, and a comb. You can take it off my pay!'

'I will. Buenas noches, Tony.'

'Buenas noches.' Tony removed his trousers and settled on the mattress, waiting for the sheets. _And if you ever come to LA, Pedro, I might be nice and find you a spot to sleep in the garage, between our cars. Or wait, it's a little crowded there. Maybe there'd be more room in the shed!_ He was still fuming five minutes later when Pedro returned with the things. Placing the sheets and blanket on the mattress one handed proved challenging. Pedro watched while he struggled, nodding his head at the entrance.

'I put your stuff in the bathroom.' He turned to go, leaving Tony alone in the silent attic.


	11. A Little Work

A steady throbbing in his upper arm woke Tony around dawn. He took two painkillers from the packet the doctor left and swallowed them with the glass of water he had carried upstairs, lying down again. The attic was dark and silent, a large empty area. Pedro had obviously moved to this house recently for it was free of any junk. It was warm enough, and the mattress was not uncomfortable. Tony sighed, ashamed of his annoyance. After all, he had arrived unannounced and had cost Pedro money – two things that never failed to rattle his cousin, and had still been given a bed. He tried to guess what time it could be, feeling naked without his watch. It must have been early as the entire area was silent. Feeling slightly better he pulled his blanket up to his chin and fell asleep again.

'You having breakfast or lunch, Tony?' his cousin inquired, as Tony opened his eyes. He sat up in a hurry, his face turning red. Pedro stood beside the mattress with folded arms, a more neutral expression on his face.

'What's the time?'

'10:00 o'clock. You always start work at this hour?'

Tony grabbed his clothes and dressed in a hurry. 'I'll be down in a sec, Pedro,' he promised, climbing down the ladder rapidly. A few minutes later he went in search of his cousin, finding him reading a newspaper outside on the verandah.

Pedro nodded his head at the wooden table they had eaten at the previous day. 'Sit down. Look at this.' He held up the front page for Tony to examine. 'The president has a mistress!'

'Really?' Tony remarked, searching the table's contents. He was hungry again, and he wondered whether it would be too impolite to help himself before his cousin began to eat.

'Sí. She's almost 30 years his junior. She has red hair.' Pedro chuckled aloud. 'Some people have all the luck! What's wrong, Tony? Do you grudge a hard working man a little amusement?'

Tony shook his head. 'Of course not. Could we start eating?'

Pedro laughed aloud. 'Watch out, cousin, you'll turn into a gringo! Alright, let's eat. There's lots of stuff to do today. I'm pressed for time.'

Tony glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, noting the ease with which he sat at the table. 'Aha,' he said, and took two eggs, two toasts, a mug of coffee and a glass of juice. 'Thanks for letting me stay,' he said softly.

'Sí, well, Abuelo drummed religion into us all, if you remember. We're supposed to provide for penniless relatives. And anyway, maybe one day you'll prove useful, who knows. And if not you, then one of your grateful brothers or sisters. Now, you're unable to do any building this week, but if you want to stay even and not owe anything else, you can do some stuff round the house.'

'Sure,' Tony agreed, amused by the continuing meanness. 'Whatever I can do one handed.'

'You see these benches,' Pedro told him, pointing to the table they sat on. 'They're fading. I need you to polish them with the machine, and give them two coats of varnish. Think you can manage that?'

Tony folded his arms and glanced sarcastically back. 'Lemme see. Yeah, I might be able to cope with such a challenging task!'

Pedro nodded. 'Good. You can start after breakfast. You'll find everything you need in the cellar.'

He spent the morning polishing, and applied the first coat of varnish just before lunch. Taking care not to get his hands sticky, he dragged the furniture further into the sunshine, before he found a shady tree to sit under. Back propped against the tree he gazed round the garden, allowing his thoughts to roam. He was healthy, his arm was fixed and would be functional within the week, and he had somewhere to stay. Unfortunately he had no money and was unable to flee the continent as he had planned, but it would come in time. In the meantime he was reasonably secure. His clothes and general unkempt appearance were a perfect disguise, and no one expected him to be in the center of the country. He was going to be ok.

A few scattered white clouds sailed high above him as he gazed upwards, never tiring of being outdoors since his imprisonment. He wondered what the weather was like in LA and where his parents and Michelle were. What day could it be? Tony spent the next few minutes working out when he had run, concluding that it was in fact Friday. He tried to remember what they had planned for the weekend, before he sat up suddenly. His parents were invited to dinner to the Martinez family and he had a feeling he could find the phone number easily enough on the internet. He would call them briefly the following evening. He said a quick prayer begging God to make certain they would not cancel that invitation.

He speculated about the identity of the mole yet again. Which district head was the traitor? Had Jack been able to piece together his data, which he had collected haphazardly, never expecting anyone else to have to use it? He desperately hoped so, aware of the threat such a man posed. A sudden thought came to him and he rose uneasily. That mole would be perfectly aware of his hacking, and had managed to move all leaks onto him, that much he had known, but would the man stop there? Would he feel safe to carry on his clandestine activities knowing Tony was on the loose, potentially able to surface and clear his name? If he wouldn't feel safe, then what steps would he take to secure himself? 'He's gonna come after you, Almeida, he'll want to kill you,' Tony muttered to himself, rubbing his face. 'He'll find you and pay some hit man, who won't even know why he's got to kill you. Your only hope is to get some money as soon as you can and move to the end of the earth.'

'Tony, there you are,' Pedro told him, discovering him behind the trees. 'You done a good job, it covered the doctor. Varnish it again tomorrow and you'll start earning your keep.'

He nodded silently.

* * *

Jack took a deep breath and knocked again, aware of the futility of his mission. There was little chance Tony's parents would trust him, they hadn't even answered the door! Jack knocked a third time, persistently. Whether they told him anything useful or not, he was determined to speak to them.

The door opened a crack, noiselessly. Jack straightened. 'Good morning, Mr. Almeida. We need to take a short walk.'

Tony's father looked him over coldly, an empty look in his eyes. 'I'm busy right now, Mr. Bauer.'

'Please don't do this, sir,' Jack begged, pushing his foot in the door to prevent it being slammed on him. 'It won't take long.' They faced each other in silence before Tony's father gave a slight nod.

'Alright, I have a few minutes.' He pulled on his jacket and locked the house, stopping to face Jack. 'You have a place in mind?'

'Just a walk to the park would be fine,' Jack told him. They set off, the silence growing oppressive between them. Jack sighed; aware he had broken their trust and would likely never regain it.

'So, Mr. Bauer, I am waiting. I have a pile of work do to, and I'm seriously behind,' Tony's father began. 'It's been a rather difficult time, as you might guess.'

Jack settled on a bench and waited till Tony's father joined him. 'I don't have to "guess" sir, I got a daughter. I wouldn't get much done either, if she were missing.'

Tony's father remained silent, examining the path, eyes hard. 'What do you need, Jack? We asked for your help almost two weeks ago, and you promised to call us. You know, I even allowed myself to believe that Tony had a friend, but I was wrong. Every one of his acquaintances wishes only to stab him in the back.'

'Mr. Almeida,' Jack began, dismayed by the depth of the man's pain. 'Tony does have a friend from CTU, me. I would have called, but I couldn't. Your phone is bugged and your house watched.'

'So they knew we called you. You could at least have called to say you couldn't find my son.'

'But I found him, sir,' Jack said quietly. 'I loosened his restraints, so he could escape.'

Tony's father glanced up, nodding thoughtfully. 'You'll have to trust me on this. I checked his research, he uncovered some mole. Sir, its imperative that I find Tony before that man does.'

'He'll bring Tony home in chains?' his father asked dully.

'Not exactly,' Jack said, gently. 'It's not in his interest to have him return and testify.'

Tony's father remained motionless. 'I understand. He will search for my son until he finds him, and kill him.'

'Yes sir,' Jack told him, unable to explain the rest. 'It's real important I get to Tony and warn him. I'm heading over to protect him, but I don't know where to go. Sir, if you have any ideas at all, I'd be real grateful.'

'You want me to trust you, Jack.' Tony's father sighed heavily. 'How do I know you won't just go to CTU and have him arrested? He barely survived prison last time; I don't think he could take it again. He would prefer to die.' Jack remained silent, watching him. 'The truth is I really don't know where he is. If I knew, I would have gone there myself to take him money.' He paused, seeing Jack's face. 'Look, if I hear anything, I'll call your cell.'

* * *

'You shouldn't feed them, you know, there's already too many of them,' Jack remarked, coming up behind her so suddenly she hadn't heard his approach. She chided herself for her lack of attention to her surroundings and tossed the remaining piece of crumpled bread to the ever hungry sea gulls.

'Tony told me the same thing,' she said unemotionally. 'He called them pests, but whenever they walked over his beach towel he always shared his lunch. I used to pack him three sandwiches and hope he'd eat one.' A lame pelican flew over to the crowd of birds and Michelle sat on the sand, opening a plastic bag. 'He's not here yet Big Bird,' she said gently, placing her hand into the bag and withdrawing a roll. 'Sit down Jack, you're bothering him! You gonna come to me?'

'Big Bird?' Jack asked wide eyed.

'It's Tony's pelican! We came here for a swim every evening, you know, and once he saw him tangled on some Asian's fishing rod. That whole group was jabbering away and they got a bag out, and cut the line and dumped the bird inside and Tony… He looked mad! He went straight over and threatened to arrest the lot of them, and they left in a hurry. He took that bird to the vet,' she chuckled softly. 'I remember the vet looked as though he was mad, but Tony paid, so he took the hook out and treated the leg. Tony kept him a coupla days but then brought him back here. He said no one should ever lose their freedom, especially not birds.' She was crying openly now.

'When was this?' Jack asked, putting his arm around her.

'Two years ago, I think.' She pulled another roll out and placed it on her knees, and both watched the bird take it and fly away.

Jack watched her in silence, his heart aching. A sudden thought came to him and he was unable to dismiss it. 'What about when he was in prison?'

Michelle took a handful of sand, allowing it to trickle through her fingers. 'When I was in LA I brought some bread.' She chewed her upper lip avoiding his gaze. 'Tony asked me to as soon as he was permitted to write his first letter, but I'd already been doing it. You're going after him, aren't you, Jack? I can read you pretty well by now. You're risking a lot.'

Jack glanced round yet again to make certain he hadn't been followed. 'Michelle, Hammond called me last night. Tony's in this much deeper than I thought. Apparently Hodgeson's aware he's got a mole but doesn't know he's identity, so he's made it top priority for District to apprehend Tony. He's gonna watch to see who gets him, but asked Hammond to send agents to keep an eye out for him to prevent him being killed. He's being used as live bait.'

Michelle's face turned red and her eyes flashed. 'How dare they! After all he's been through! After all the years he worked for them! He discovered their leak, and they're still using him! Dammit Jack, he's just out of prison. He's not well at all yet, and they do this to him…'

'Michelle, I know it sounds heartless, but he did hack in after all,' Jack said, attempting to calm her. 'At the moment, Hodgeson just hopes the mole will feel threatened and search for him, coz we're all back to square one if he doesn't. At least Hodgeson knows Tony's innocent – he'll be allowed to return once the mole is caught.'

'If he's still alive,' she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

'I'm going to protect him,' he told her reassuringly. 'If you know where he could be, I gotta know it now, his time could be running out. I just spoke to his father; I don't think he's got a clue.'

'They don't know,' she told him tiredly. 'I don't know either, Jack. He'd never go to any of his relatives, I already told you that. He'd NEVER get anyone else involved in his problems.'

'He wouldn't have any untraceable ones, by any chance?' Jack inquired casually.

She shrugged. 'I don't know. They were all checked out by Mexican Intelligence and they're all clean.' Closing her eyes, she buried her head in her hands. 'I just don't know who else would help him if they don't.'

Jack pulled a list from his jacket and handed it to her. 'His parents wrote that for Agent Main. The Mexican ones are circled in red. You wouldn't know which ones he was particularly close to, would you?'

She took the list and read through the names. 'I only heard of this one – Jose Rosales. He inherited their grandfather's house and lives there now. He doesn't speak English. I only met him once, he seemed decent.'

'And he'd never betray Tony, even if knew something,' Jack concluded, watching her nod. 'I'll go talk to him, he might know something. It's as good a place to start as any.'

'It'll take you a while,' she warned. 'Half the journey is on back roads and some of them are not real well maintained. Find him for me, Jack. Bring him home safe, please.'

'You got it,' he agreed, hoping he could keep that promise.

* * *

Tony awoke and stretched lazily, rubbing his eyes. He felt better rested for the siesta everyone in Pedro's house enjoyed. A few voices floated up from the family room indicating the day's activities were about to be resumed. He dressed and joined his cousin. 'You got any other jobs?' he asked. 'The varnish won't have dried yet.'

'Of course,' Pedro told him. 'You may pull the weeds from the garden path. They're growing between the stones. The last owners really let this house go.'

Tony worked hard the rest of the afternoon, and the following day. The garden furniture was given a second coat of varnish and shone in the sun, the path was cleared of weeds, and he had tidied up the cellar. 'Hey Pedro, I'm done. You can take a look,' he said, waiting patiently while his cousin examined the cellar.

'Ok, Tony, you've earned yourself 30 dollars,' he said.

'Only 30?' Tony echoed. 'You got to be kidding. I worked for two full days.'

'I pay more for building,' Pedro told him. 'You want the money, or not?'

'Yeah, I want it. I need some coins; I want to make a phone call. Where's the nearest box?'

'Down the road, about half an hour walk from here,' Pedro told him. 'You sure it's safe?'

'Aha, they're at a friend's'. Tony walked along the side of a narrow road, his hat pulled low over his head in his work clothes and sandals, among the poorer dressed of the town's inhabitants. Nobody spared him a second glance as they walked past him, entering shops or homes. Cars rattled along the rough surface close beside him playing music. Tony's eyes searched the surroundings continuously, unable to relax. The phone box he eventually reached stood in front of an ice-cream shop, occupied by two teenage girls who discussed every boy in their class in great detail in between fits of laughter. Tony bought himself the cheapest ice-cream available and settled at the nearest table, amused. The sun sank and lights came on, bringing more people out to eat pizzas close by him. Presently the girls hung up and he entered the phone box, a pile of coins in his pocket. _Please be there, mom._

The phone was lifted on the fifth ring, and he recognized Eva Martinez's voice saying hello. Tony swallowed and attempted to disguise his voice slightly, asking for his mother. He was told to wait a moment and stared at the phone impatiently, adding a second coin.

'Hello,' his mother answered, her voice expressing uncertainty.

'Mom,' Tony began softly, leaning against the side of the booth. 'It's me.'

He heard a gasp at the other end. 'Tony, my baby. You're alive. Thank God. We prayed for you all the time. They said you were shot. Are you ok?' She was crying, he could tell.

'Mom, it's ok,' he told her gently, wishing he could see her. 'I'm fine. The bullet went into my arm, but it's out now. I'm quite safe.'

'Sweetheart, where are you?' she asked, longing to hug him.

'I can't tell you that right now. I'm collecting a little money and then I'll move further and… I'd love to see you again.'

'You will,' his mother promised, determination in her voice. 'Can we send you anything?'

'No, it's not safe for you to do that,' he assured her. 'Don't worry about me anymore, ok?'

'Tony,' his mother told him, slightly exasperated. 'How can you ask that? We're all real worried about you. We're afraid they will find you and hurt you.'

Tony rubbed his face, wondering how his mother had reached the same conclusion he had arrived at the day before. 'Mom its ok, I'm keeping my eyes open. Is Papa there? I'd like to talk to him a bit too, before I run out of coins.'

She said goodbye and assured him again of her love, and called his father, while he blinked hard. _Why couldn't you just have forgotten about the leak, Almeida? Look where it got you. You're hiding out, unable to go home and the mole's fine, earning a terrific salary and selling further secrets._ He rubbed a hand across his eyes, straightening as his father took the phone.

'Tony, how are you?' Tony assured his father he was fine, and inquired after the family. 'They're all fine too.'

'And Michelle?' he questioned eagerly. 'She must be back now. Have you seen her? Is she okay?'

'We saw her yesterday. She's alright, working in the same place. She just wants to know why you ran.'

'I had no other choice,' he said softly. 'Tell her I love her and I'll try and contact her when things settle a bit.'

'You got it. Listen Antonio, Jack came by. He said you should watch your back; the man you came close to uncovering must surely be looking for you. They all are, in that department.'

'I guessed they would be,' Tony replied, sighing heavily. If Jack had bothered to go and warn his parents he was in danger, he would need to exercise extra vigilance. 'He helped me, you know.'

'I know. Tony, he's heading to Mexico to help you. If you'd tell me where you are, I could let him know.'

'No don't, Papa. Right now I'm fine, there's no one here. I'd like to keep it that way. I can take care of myself,' he answered, adamant. 'Don't even try to guess where I am.'

'Are you sure about that? He seemed quite worried.'

Tony frowned, puzzled. 'Jack knows I can take care of myself. If he came here there'd be a second trail, it would be dangerous. And why would he wish to risk his own freedom helping a fugitive? I don't get it, Papa. No, don't tell him anything, except "thank you".' The phone beeped and he dropped his last coin inside. 'I've got about another minute, Papa. I miss you so much.'

'Tony, we can't leave it like this. They accused you of awful things…'

Tony shook his head. 'Papa, they'll figure out they're wrong soon enough. Maybe I'll get lucky and they'll declare me innocent. As long as you and mom know the truth, that's ok.' _Who are you kidding, Almeida? You're ready to slam your head into this phone box, except that it won't help. They're calling you a traitor again._

He hung up, a strange longing in his heart_. I wanna go home. I want the mole to be exposed and to be allowed to return. I can't keep going like this_. He chided himself seconds later for allowing himself to sink into depression. _You can keep going, Almeida, because you must. The alternative is unthinkable. There's no way you're going to walk into another cell again and face a wall, ever._

He warmed his dinner up in the silent kitchen, carrying it into the lounge on a tray to join Pedro watching the news. A sense of foreboding filled him as the announcers came on, and he laid his dinner on the coffee table, unwilling to miss a single word. What catastrophe had been averted that day by his colleagues? Had they been successful? It turned out that they had been, for the news contained little of interest. Tony picked through his dinner, his heart aching too much to enable him to enjoy it. After washing his dishes he excused himself, pleading weakness from the surgery.

The attic was dark and silent as he emerged from the ladder. Tony flicked his small lamp on and lay on his mattress, blinking hard. He replayed the conversation with his parents, listening to their voices as they spoke of their feelings for him. He swallowed down his unshed tears, determined to ask Pedro for a photo of them the following day. 'I'll give you a dollar for it,' he muttered into the silence, feeling a little better. Once a few more days had passed he would download Michelle's photo from the internet. It would have to keep him going until his name would be cleared.

Tony opened his eyes and let them roam, examining the top of the attic. Beyond that lay the tree that shaded the house, and above it the sky and the stars. His family would see the same stars if they looked out that night; he really wasn't so far from them at all. Most likely his parents were still at the Martinez's dinner. Once again he replayed the conversation, wishing the whole nightmare would end.

_So Jack visited Papa and warned him the man I tried to uncover is searching for me. That's not really news, Jack! I knew he wouldn't just forget about me. So everyone in District is searching for me. That's bad - it means they truly consider me an ongoing threat. It's even worse, for the real mole remains free of suspicion. And why are you heading to Mexico, Jack? You surely can't think of getting involved in my problems, you already released me. You're not coming to watch my back, it doesn't work that way. Did someone send you? Have you allowed yourself to be convinced I am a threat?_ He rubbed his face, feeling his despair rush through him again. _I can't believe you're here to take me back, Jack. You must know I'd NEVER do anything to harm my country. But if you're not here for that, then why are you coming?_

The silent ceiling failed to provide him with an answer.


	12. The Brick Carter

Tony ate a cold breakfast by lamplight, wondering when the coffee would wake him. Neither cup had had the desired effect of preventing his eyes from closing. Idly he contemplated pouring himself a third cup, but remembered Michelle's countless admonitions against drinking too much. Yawning, he collected his breakfast things and rinsed them in the sink before heading upstairs to brush his teeth, slide the comb through his hair and put on the jeans and t-shirt. He pulled his sombrero on and wandered downstairs, pulling out the map Pedro had left for him. The site was circled in red pen, and Tony folded the map, placing it in his pocket. It was already 5:30, he had a half an hour walk ahead of him, he would have to hurry. He pulled the front door closed and set off along the edge of the road, heading further out of town.

The sun rose as he walked, blinding him. Tony pulled his hat lower and quickened his pace, aware of the penalty of lateness. Work started at 6:00 o'clock sharp, and anyone not there would lose part of the day's wages. He was determined not to risk that, aware of the need to collect his money as soon as possible and leave. He had spent the past several days contemplating his future while he painted window frames, and repaired the roof. Somehow he would need to acquire a Mexican passport, and then he would seek employment in a place which hired plenty of them. There were some oil companies in countries less than friendly to the States where several of his cousin's acquaintances had worked - he would try and get a job as an engineer in one of them.

The sun rose higher and birdsong filled the air. He listened, ignoring nothing since his imprisonment. _You never realize what you got till it's gone_. Well, it wasn't all gone, not by a long shot. He was free, he was about to start working as a builder and earn some money, and he was healthy. His family was fine, and the people District had sent to locate him had obviously failed to do so. The old couple who had sheltered him had remained silent, and he had removed any trace of his presence there. At the moment, he was safe.

He came upon the building site rather suddenly, just beyond a bend in the road. It was a lot larger than he had expected, with dozens of men milling around. Piles of bricks lay in rows, wheelbarrows lay along the edge of a wall, and cement mixers were surrounded by mountains of sand. Tony joined the crowd of around fifty men, studying his surroundings in silence for a minute before the door of a caravan opened and a man stepped out.

'Ok, names. On the west wing, I want Jo, Miguel, Luis, Arturo, Pablo and you,' he pointed at an Indian man in a turban. 'On the south,' he stared at his list and read another string of names. Tony concluded that the south wing had to be completed a little sooner, as twice as many men were allocated there. 'Alright, everyone else, to the north. You,' he pointed to Tony. 'Come here!'

Tony moved over to him, whilst he glanced at a clipboard. 'You're Tony; Señor Rosales said you were coming.' Tony nodded. 'You ever built anything before?'

'No señor,' he admitted.

'Hmm,' sighed the foreman, glancing at his board again. 'Someone's sick on the west side. They're short of a laborer. You can be Gunga Din's assistant!'

'Who?' Tony exclaimed, startled.

The foreman slapped the clipboard against his thigh, eager to return to his breakfast. 'Gunga Din, the guy with the turban. He'll tell you what to bring. Now grab a wheelbarrow and move it!'

'You sure about his name?' Tony inquired, pulling a grey wheelbarrow from behind several sacks of cement.

'Are you being funny?' the foreman told him, sharply. 'No one has a name here; you'd do better to remember that. Now move, unless you want to be docked half a day's pay.'

Tony pushed the wheelbarrow round the construction site, feeling the first warm rays of sunlight. The west wing proved entirely separate from the rest of the building, consisting of a small concrete base with three rows of bricks round it. He laid the wheelbarrow down and approached the group of men who stood discussing the work. 'I'm supposed to help you guys,' Tony told them.

'Good. You can see that the brick carter messed up, he was supposed to put some piles of bricks here for us, but he didn't. There's hardly any left. You'll have to bring them from the south wing as fast as you can,' Jo told him. 'Gunga Din, start the cement mixer. Let's move guys.'

Tony pushed his barrow over the uneven site and found several large piles of bricks near the south side. He laid his barrow on the ground and began piling bricks inside, two at a time, resolved to get a pair of gloves from Pedro the following day. The bricks were sharp, scratching his hands as he worked. Once the barrow was as full as it could get he pushed it back, startled to notice the remaining pile of bricks had almost entirely been used up.

'Tony, hurry up! What do you think you're doing, walking so slowly?' yelled Jo, clearly upset. 'You're supposed to run! We can't keep waiting. Now move it.'

The moment they unloaded his bricks he returned for more, pushing the barrow faster, feeling it bump along the uneven ground. He grabbed the bricks faster, throwing them into the barrow before pushing it rapidly back. All six builders were waiting for him, more annoyed than before. Not a single brick remained on the ground.

'Tony, this is no good. You ever worked on a site before? You're much too slow. The cement will dry,' Jo snapped.

'I'm moving as fast as I can,' Tony protested.

'Well, it's not good enough! Luis, you'll have to be a laborer today too, or we'll get nowhere!'

A cheerful looking man in his late twenties shrugged and snatched a wheelbarrow, pushing it beside Tony's. He pointed to a second stack of bricks, larger and darker than the pile he had been carting. 'They're internals. You got to bring those too, see, or the work will stop again.'

Tony nodded, and filled the barrow with the larger internal bricks, struggling to push it over to the men. 'Oh, there you are. I was beginning to think you quit,' Jo snarled, as he unloaded. He glared at Tony. 'You know the meaning of the word "hurry"?'

Tony glared back at him and returned to the pile without comment, tossing as many bricks in as he could, not bothering whether they chipped. Sweat trickled from his forehead and he wiped it automatically, spreading red brick dust along his face. The sun rose higher and his t-shirt clung to his back, soaked through. He decided to get a drink of water, thoroughly sick of Jo's comments. He would simply have to wait for a few minutes; a rest would do him good!

A large water tank stood beyond the northern end of the building, surrounded by paper cups. Tony pulled one out and turned the tap, watching it fill. He leaned against the tank and drank, swallowing rapidly. Still thirsty, he filled the cup a second time, pouring a little onto his hot face.

'Tony, move it. Jo's gonna kill you,' Luis told him, arriving minus the barrow. 'If that building's not up to the doorframes today, he won't get paid, and trust me, he'll kill you personally.'

Tony nodded, tossing the cup into a large black plastic bag. 'Ok, I'm ready. Luis, what's the deal here, anyway? I've seen other buildings go up, nobody's running around.'

Luis shrugged. 'Everyone's here for the money. Señor Rosales pays for the amount of work, not for the hour.' They walked back together, Luis humming a tune. 'Oh shit,' he said quietly, pausing.

'What's wrong?' Tony inquired, unable to find anything out of the ordinary. The west side had several extra courses of bricks and someone was pouring sand into a cement mixer.

'Your wheelbarrow's gone. Wait here, I'll find it, I've got an idea who took it,' Luis told him, setting off rapidly. Tony followed him, his face turning red. It had never occurred to him that anyone would remove a barrow half full of bricks. They rounded the building and arrived at the south side, where Luis grabbed a short over weight man. 'Manuelo, you bastard, that's ours.' He tipped the bricks on the ground and grabbed the handles. 'Come on Tony, let's go.'

Together they piled the barrows full, Tony filling his with internals. They wheeled them back in silence, Tony lost in thought. Luis and Jo yelling at each other pulled him back to the present abruptly, and he tipped his bricks to the ground.

Luis grabbed his barrow firmly. 'Let's go, Tony. Jo's getting pissed off!'

Tony followed him, rushing as fast as the barrow would move over to the shrinking pile. 'So where are you from?' Luis questioned, throwing bricks on top of each other. 'Mexico?'

Tony grabbed a few bricks and dropped them noisily, nodding his head. 'Sí. You?'

'El Salvador. Hopefully in a few months I'll have enough money to move on. Come on, Jo will be waiting.'

They trudged back, unloading their bricks. 'Luis, what's your problem today? You're getting as slow as Tony! Ah, look, the brick truck.' Jo set off in a great hurry, waving to the driver. Tony moved aside, watching as a small bobcat unloaded several piles of bricks. 'Good, now we can work! Tony, it shouldn't be too hard for you to just bring them to us now, I hope! Oh shit, cement's turning hard. Go and bring water, and not in a cup! Take that red bucket.'

Tony picked up the bucket, throwing Jo a dirty look_. Focus, Almeida. You're here to make money, not to pick arguments. So that bastard is giving you a hard time, you'll just have to deal with it. He's hardly the first one!_ He hurried over to the water tank, filled the bucket and carried it back without spilling a drop.

Pedro stood at the cement mixer when he returned, deep in conversation with the foreman and Jo. Tony added a little water and returned to his barrow, handing bricks up to the Sikh, watching the skill with which he laid the rows.

'You're not taking that bloody mixer anywhere. First you hand us a useless guy, then you think you're taking our mixer, you're not!' Jo snapped. Tony turned to watch the argument erupting between him and the other two.

'You work for me, Jo, don't forget that,' Pedro told him, in a nasty tone Tony had never heard him use before. 'We need that mixer; the west side needs one more urgently than you do. Damn things, always breaking down when they're most needed.'

'I'll take a look,' Tony offered, laying the last two bricks on the top row.

'Good, go! At least he won't slow down our progress,' Jo snapped.

Tony chewed his lip and refrained from comment, following Pedro over to the north side. A cement mixer stood abandoned, full of drying cement. 'It worked ok just a short while ago. Clean the stuff out and see what you can do, but I warn you, Tony, if you're just wasting time I'll know about it and you won't get paid.'

'Look, Pedro,' he said, allowing his irritation to surface. 'I haven't even examined the thing yet. How can I know what's wrong? Give me five minutes, ok?'

Pedro stepped back, watching while he cleaned the contents out and switched on the machine, hearing only silence. 'I'll need to open it up,' he said, watching his cousin nod. He unscrewed the cover of the electrical panel, discovering a broken wire. 'Got a spare? I'll install it in a coupla minutes.'

'You've earned your keep for the day,' Pedro told him, impressed. 'I forget, you got a degree in engineering too. Seems you're better at that than carting bricks!'

Tony folded his arms, scowling. 'Gimme a break, ok. I just started today.'

Pedro laughed aloud. 'Ok, relax cousin. If anything else breaks down I'll call you. Now get back to your work and move it. I heard a one legged man would bring more bricks than you!'

* * *

Brad Hammond straightened his tie, resolved not to get overly irritated. He would focus instead on the dinner reservations he had with his wife later that evening. True, the meeting he was summoned to would be anything but pleasant, but it would surely end. 'You can go in, Mr. Hammond,' a secretary told him.

Hodgeson sat at his desk, hardly bothering to glance his way. 'Sit down, Brad. We need to talk. I don't think you're taking the Almeida problem seriously enough. How is it possible that your six agents failed to locate him? Don't tell me he just vanished into thin air? The man exists, he eats, he drinks, he lives somewhere. He must have left a trail of some kind. Did you check his relatives' accounts?'

'Yes sir,' Hammond replied, irritation in his voice. 'Neither his parents nor his siblings have any unusual debits since his disappearance.'

'Well he must live from something,' Hodgeson exclaimed. 'What about those Mexican relatives? Did you check them?'

'Sir, Mexican intelligence reported they're all clean,' Hammond said, glancing at his watch. 'All except for a cousin they've failed to locate.'

'What do you mean, "failed to locate?"' echoed Hodgeson. 'How many more members of that family are missing? What's he wanted for?'

'Nothing in particular sir,' Hammond answered.

'Well the man must pay taxes. Didn't you check the internal revenue records?'

Hammond shifted on his chair in genuine annoyance. 'Of course I did, sir. According to them he resides in the small town the grandfather lived in, but in reality he hasn't been there for years. He hasn't paid taxes either, just bits and pieces occasionally. It says he's some kind of builder, works temporarily.'

Hodgeson sighed. 'Check it out anyway, Brad. What's his name; I'll put someone onto it.'

'Good luck, sir! Pedro Rosales. But there's little reason Almeida would be with such a character. What use could he possibly be?'

'You never know. I want every lead followed, for there aren't many.'

'There aren't any, you mean,' Hammond thought sarcastically. 'That bastard Almeida just disappeared. We've turned the country inside out to find him, and come up blank. He's gone. He's never gonna surface, and not only will I lose my promotion, this job itself might well be forfeit.' He tapped his fingers restlessly against the desk. 'We'll find the cousin, sir.'

Hodgeson nodded grimly. 'Yes Brad, you will. I fail to comprehend your lack of results. Do you enjoy your position?'

An icy chill ran down Hammond's spine. 'Yes sir,' he answered.

'Hm. How much are we offering for his capture?'

'A quarter of a million, sir,' Brad replied.

'Offer half a million. Someone must have seen him. Hell, most people would sell their own mothers for less.' Hodgeson scrutinized him in silence. 'Almeida won't surface accidentally, you pushed him too hard. If we fail to prevent the mole from getting to him first, we've got a major problem on our hands. I want to hear his exact location by tomorrow evening, Brad!'

'Yes sir,' Hammond answered again.

* * *

Michelle placed her hand on the door silently. The wood felt cold beneath her hot fingers and she allowed it to rest there a few seconds, in two minds about her visit. A delicious smell wafted through the dining room window and helped her reach a decision. She withdrew her hand, curled it into a fist and thumped on the door, aware she would have to knock loudly if she wanted a hope of being heard. It opened a short while later and Tony's mother beamed at her. 'Michelle! Come in honey.' She gave her a hug, her eyes searching Michelle's.

She shook her head sadly. 'I haven't heard anything else,' she admitted. 'I was just thinking about him…driving around….' She had spent the last three hours driving around without a clear destination in mind, unable to return to the silent house. It hadn't helped, for she had instinctively driven to all the places that held special memories of the two of them together, leaving her more distressed than before.

'We were thinking about him too. We're about to have dinner, honey. Are you hungry?' Tony's mother added a third plate to the table without waiting for her reply, convinced her daughter-in-law was terribly thin.

'I am a bit,' she admitted, sliding into her chair. If the truth were told she was famished, having missed lunch due to her extremely heavy workload. Stopping to worry about Tony's whereabouts was not helping her concentration and she resolved to push him from her mind at least a dozen times, only to catch herself staring at his photo.

'Marco, dinner's ready,' Tony's mother called, laying a third saucepan on the table. 'Try this one, honey, you like it,' she told Michelle with a knowing look and she blushed under the scrutiny. So her mother-in-law had observed Tony's gentle teasing. Michelle took spaghetti and added some sauce, her mouth watering. 'Now honey, you haven't got a stomach ulcer,' Tony's mother protested, piling more onto her plate. 'You should eat more, you'll get sick! Marco! Dinner's ready.' Silence greeted her words and they smiled at each other. 'Excuse me a minute, Michelle, I'll have to get him. He's worse than a child!'

'Sure,' she agreed. 'Just switch off his computer, I did to Tony once! I kept calling him – we were supposed to go shopping and he wouldn't quit some racing game. I told him I'd switch it off and he just said "aha". I doubt whether he even heard me, so I just turned it off!'

His mother nodded. 'It's the only thing you can do with them.' She set off determinedly and Tony's father entered the room moments later, smiling at her warmly.

'Michelle, it's good to see you. Start eating, don't wait for me. None of my children ever did.'

'That's because they wanted to eat while the food was at least lukewarm,' his wife told him with a mock frown. 'Take more, sweetheart,' she told Michelle, noticing how quickly she had finished. 'Tell me you had lunch today.'

'Ah, I can't remember,' she muttered turning her attention to taking more food.

They told her off simultaneously. She nodded, aware that missing a meal was a fate only slightly better than death as far as Tony's entire family was concerned. Once the meal was over she helped carry the plates to the sink, secretly wishing they would buy a dishwasher. 'Can I help?' she asked, hoping they would refuse as she was utterly exhausted.

'No dear, Marco will take care of them,' her mother in law said, and led Michelle to the family room. 'You look tired,' she observed.

Michelle nodded. 'I am a bit. I miss him so much,' she groaned in despair. 'I thought he was going to spend the rest of his life in prison – I kept expecting him to be murdered by someone, and then they pardoned him, and now he's gone again. I can't do this anymore.'

Tony's father laid the pile of dishes back onto the table. 'I got some new tomatoes in the garden,' he said, to her bewilderment. 'Why don't you come along and see them, a little air would do you good.' Before she could object he had taken her arm and led her outside to the verandah. For a moment she hoped he had something to tell her, but the hope faded as she found herself propelled towards the vegetable patch.

'They're great,' she said, struggling to sound enthusiastic.

She heard a snort beside her in the darkness. 'You sure about that? They're pumpkins! He called four days ago.'

'He called,' she cried, clapping a hand across her mouth. 'Where is he?'

'He didn't say. He's fine, he's kinda safe, and he misses you very much. He asked me to tell you he had to run as he had no other choice, and said he loves you and will contact you when things settle a bit.'

She gave a little jump of joy, grinning madly at Tony's father. 'Thanks, Marco. He's ok,' she repeated, overwhelmed. She felt a hand stroke her curls and she burst into tears. 'I can't stop thinking about him.'

'He does have a habit of getting into trouble,' his father agreed, taking her elbow. 'He misses you very much, Michelle, I heard it in his voice.' She listened, her heart bursting. 'You're exhausted, Michelle. Better stay the night.' They returned and she sank onto the couch, her eyes fixed on the unrepaired bullet hole. 'I'm sure I haven't told you about the first camping trip we went on,' he said, deciding the dishes could wait as his favorite daughter-in-law was in sore need of cheering.

She shook her head and shut her eyes listening to the crackle of the fire and hearing several stories of Tony as a child. She had no idea how they managed to cheer her up whenever she instinctively sought shelter from them as they suffered along with her, but they never failed to do so. Once the clock struck twelve she rose, a lot calmer, and begged to be allowed to sleep in Tony's old bed.

* * *

Tony turned the hot water on and moved beneath it, attempting to ease his aching muscles. His arms shook with weariness; he doubted whether he would have been able to lift as much as another broken half of a brick. Steam rose around him, clouding the bathroom until he saw little beyond himself. His eyes closed and he permitted a slight groan to escape. _Oh God, what a day!_ Slowly he reached for the soap, rubbing it over himself generously. The thought of returning to the building site the next day filled him with despair_. One more person wants to know why the bricks are coming so slowly, I'll tell them to get it themselves!_ He reached for the shampoo, scrubbing the dust from his hair_. I believe that bastard Pedro was laughing at me. He spent the whole damn day there, watching._ He rinsed the shampoo out and leaned against the tiles, allowing hot water to run over his face.

'Tony, where the hell are you? Dinner's ready, I'm not waiting.'

'I'm coming,' he called, doubting whether he could eat anything. All he wanted to do was curl up on his mattress and close his eyes, but he would need extra energy to face tomorrow from somewhere. Turning the water off reluctantly, he dried himself and pulled on the ancient pair of pajamas Pedro had fished out of a drawer for him, and stumbled down the stairs.

Pedro burst out laughing as he fell onto a chair, taking his plate and piling it high. 'Eat, Tony. You look half dead! I don't believe you've ever done a day's work in your life! Never mind, you'll get used to it, I promise. They all do, just before they leave. Now I got to go to town tomorrow to do a little banking, so unfortunately I'll miss your performance, but I'll try to hurry and get back by late afternoon.' He laughed uproariously, pouring himself some Cepa Urbiñon.

Tony placed a little beef into his mouth, forcing his eyes to remain open. 'When will you pay me?' he demanded, eyeing Pedro suspiciously.

'Tomorrow. I must get some cash. You'll get everything you earned today, don't worry.'

'And how much is that?' Tony demanded, distrustfully.

'Twenty dollars.' He laughed again, shaking his head at Tony's thunderous expression. 'What do you expect, ah? You're an illegal, and you're not even fast.'

'I need thirty, or I'll never fix anything again,' Tony hissed, forcing himself to chew. _You're gonna be here for a real long time at this rate, Almeida_, he concluded gloomily.

Pedro shrugged. 'Ok, relax. I was going to offer that anyway. Thirty it is, but I warn you, most of that was for the cement mixer. If you want to earn the same tomorrow, you'll have to lift the pace. Goodnight, cousin.'

'Just a minute,' he said, rubbing his eyes. 'Can I use your computer for a bit, Pedro?'

'What for?' his cousin demanded suspiciously.

'Let me show you a picture,' Tony begged, moving over to the room set aside as an office before he could object. Pedro followed him wordless, slight curiosity in his eyes. Tony settled on Pedro's chair, powering up the computer. 'I need to use the Internet,' he said quietly.

Pedro typed in his password and Tony worked silently for a minute before nodding. 'I'm gonna print this out, ok?'

'Looks like you're already doing it,' Pedro observed. They watched a picture of an auburn curly haired woman fill the screen. 'Who's she?' he questioned. 'Your dream girlfriend?'

'My wife Michelle,' Tony muttered, swallowing. The picture was an official one taken at Division and lacked a smile, but even her serious professional face tore at his heart.

'Wow,' Pedro exclaimed, genuinely impressed. 'You must earn real well, cousin!'

Tony shook his head. 'I only got a bit more than her. She actually asked me out!'

It was Pedro's turn to shake his head. 'That's impossible,' he stated. He regarded Tony quizzically. 'You finally learned how to lie cousin.'

'It's the truth,' he insisted, mesmerized by her picture. The printer deposited her picture on the table and he picked it up, smiling at her.

'You went to prison for her,' Pedro said, taking the picture from him and examining her in detail. 'I thought you were crazy Tony, but I might have been wrong. She's worth it!'

'Yeah,' he said, taking her picture back. 'Buenas noches, Pedro!'


	13. A Race Against Time

'You don't need more sand,' Luis explained, handing over the bucket. 'The mixture will dry too quickly, and Jo will demand your blood. Now don't forget to fill it with water next time.'

'I won't,' Tony replied, gratefully. Jo had spent the entire morning yelling at him and he found it increasingly hard to remain silent. 'Thanks, Luis.'

Luis shrugged and grinned at him, returning to his wall. Tony watched the cement mixer in silence for another minute before he returned to the brick piles, checking which builder had the least amount beside him. He had spent the entire morning carting bricks to each of them, unable to finish unloading one set before someone else would yell for more. The time he would spend earning his money was going to be extremely long, he could see that already.

'Tony, where the hell are you? I need bricks, damn you. What do you think this wall is being built from, daydreams?' bellowed Jo, his voice echoing through the half built structure.

Tony permitted himself a slight sigh as he filled the barrow with more bricks, moving as fast as he could, snatching them up and dumping them inside. Jo glared at him as he arrived and piled them out in the rows he had been shown, and he fought down an urge to slam his fist into the man's face.

'Right, I can do more work. Thanks! Now I'm gonna need cement, as you can see. Go get some,' he pushed over an empty ice-cream tub, 'and mix some more. Today, Tony!'

'And I thought it was for tomorrow,' he muttered under his breath as he fetched the cement. He filled the mixer and glanced at the builders, noting with surprise that they all appeared to have plenty of bricks. Finally he would be able to get himself a drink. Tony hurried round the building and filled his cup with cold water, pouring the first load over his head. He pushed his hat back on and filled the cup again, swallowed every last drop and wished he had a bottle he could fill to carry some back with him.

The foreman appeared, checking their progress, discussing something about the position of the door with Jo. He glanced critically at the returning Tony, leaving Jo. 'Tony. I heard you're still much too slow. Where have you been?'

Tony chewed his lip, forcing his anger aside. 'Just to get some water, señor. It's almost lunch time, and I haven't had anything yet.'

'Hmm, well, try and keep up with the work. People are counting on you.' He turned away, glancing at the windows. 'Gunga Din, you're gonna need more cement under that window. Hoy, I just called you. Come here at once and don't give me that idiotic look. You've been here two weeks now; don't pretend you don't speak Spanish! More cement!'

The man nodded and waited silently for any further comments.

'You know, yelling won't help him understand any better,' Tony heard himself saying. 'He doesn't speak Spanish, why don't you cut him a little slack. He's doing a good job.'

The foreman turned to face him. 'Did I ask for a comment, Tony? You're the slowest man we're ever employed, so I suggest you keep your mouth shut and do some more work. Now then Gunga Din, more cement!' He pointed in irritation at the mixer. 'Shit, some people are not worth the trouble.'

'He wants you to put more cement under the window to protect it from rain,' Tony muttered in English as he passed the Sikh.

The man's eyes lit up. 'More cement under the window? It's not really necessary, but I'll add some, why not? I'm sorry if I shouted at you before.'

Tony shrugged. 'It's ok; I'm a pretty lousy brick carter.'

'Tony, where are you?'

'I'm on my way,' he called, grabbing bricks rapidly and hauling them into the barrow, listening to thuds as they fell against the metal surface. The final brick scratched his hand badly and he swore aloud, not surprised to find a thin line of blood. 'Dammit,' he muttered, wondering what to do.

'I got a bandage,' Luis told him, watching the blood trickle over his hand. 'I'll go get you one.'

'Gracias,' he said gratefully, carrying the pile of bricks to the wall. It was a lot higher than the day before, he had to lift them individually above his head to hand them up. Once the barrow was empty he rinsed his hand in the cold water from the tank and returned to Luis, who handed him a band aid. He stuck it on carefully, cursing himself for his clumsiness. A bell rang loudly and everyone cheered, moving towards the caravan.

'Come on Tony, get some lunch,' Luis told him. 'Don't worry about Jo, you're doing fine.

Tony grinned and shook his head. 'You're a bad liar, Luis.'

'No really, you're faster than yesterday,' Luis told him, grabbing a sandwich. Tony grabbed one for himself and settled under a tree next to him, chewing slowly. 'You won't see me next week, I got my money. I'm off to America.' He beamed at Tony.

Tony swallowed a little more of the dry bread. 'You know where you're going? You got anyone there? It can be real tough, alone.'

'I got a sister, I'll go to her,' Luis replied, leaning back. 'It's like a dream, off to America!'

'And how do you plan on entering?' Tony inquired, crumbling a little bread for some birds.

'By truck. There's this guy who can get you in, once you pay him.'

Tony nodded, his eye on the birds. They appeared to enjoy the sandwich more than he did. He crumpled the remainder of the bread and threw it further, watching them run or fly after it. 'Does this guy have a name?'

'Of course he does. You thinking of using him too? He's Michael Peters, and he's good, though not cheap. He charges 5000 dollars for the ride and some papers.'

Tony glanced up, chewing his lip_. Michael Peters, I heard of you! You rob every one of their cash, and leave them stranded, so our guys find them._ His eyes moved over to Luis again, who rested against the tree trunk. 'What happened to your arm?' he inquired casually, noting burn marks along it.

'You know what life's like, Tony. I got questioned about something I didn't know the answer to.' He shrugged. 'It's ok, my sister's safe, and I'll join her soon. Hey, you didn't eat anything. Want an apple?'

Tony nodded gratefully and rubbed it against the inside of his t-shirt. 'What did you do back home?' he questioned, unable to remain silent.

'I was an accountant, but only for a year. Before then I studied in the evenings and I worked on buildings like this one during the day.'

Tony nodded, eating the apple. The bell rang again and everyone got up, grumbling. Luis stared at him in surprise as he remained under the tree. 'I'm almost done,' he explained, getting up reluctantly. 'Luis.' The man turned, watching him curiously. 'Don't go with Peters. There's a different place they don't really monitor, you can cross by yourself and keep your money.'

'You sure?'

He nodded, a pang of guilt racing through him. 'Sí, I'm sure. I heard about it.' He knelt down and scratched a rough map in the dirt, pointing to a spot. 'Right over there. It's rarely patrolled.' _What the hell, he's a decent guy. _

* * *

Michelle chewed her upper lip as she stood before the desk and shook her head. 'I'm quite sure I don't know where he is, Bill. I was in Langley when he was arrested, as you might remember.'

Bill Buchanan leaned further into his chair and searched her face, not altogether satisfied. 'You realize it's imperative he is recaptured. I know it's hard, but if he is as innocent as you insist he has nothing to fear.'

'I'm sure he's aware of that,' she replied, twisting her wedding band round her finger.

Bill rose from his chair and moved over to her. 'A lot of people are surprised you haven't been suspended pending our search,' he said. 'I just finished telling them you'd be sure to cooperate with us fully. Am I right?'

Michelle nodded, avoiding his gaze. 'Of course. I want this cleared up as much as you do, even more.'

He nodded again. 'And his family is as ignorant of his whereabouts as you are?'

She raised shocked eyes to meet his. 'What's that supposed to mean, Bill? Am I under surveillance?'

'District is keeping tabs on all his immediate relatives,' Bill warned. 'You spent the night there.'

'I went for dinner and I was just too spent to drive home. We often ate there. Is that any concern of District's?'

'Only when you spend ten minutes outside and return jubilant. The father told you something, right? Come on Michelle, normal people don't admire vegetables at 11:30 on a cold evening. What did he say?'

She shook her head. 'He just wanted to know if I heard anything,' she lied, determined to protect Tony despite having misgivings about his escape. 'They're a real close family, his parents are beside themselves.'

He threw her another searching look, pulling the secrets from the depths of her soul. 'Funny you should mention that. I was told they seem a lot less "besides themselves" in the last couple of days. They seem to be getting on with a normal routine.'

'Life goes on, Bill,' she said softly, longing to leave his office.

'I'll believe that when…' He paused, searching for a suitable comparison.

"_I'll believe you, sweetheart, when Mr. Spock says something illogical! Right now…"_ Tears filled her eyes which she indignantly blinked away.

Bill sighed and touched her arm gently. 'I'm sorry, Michelle. I didn't mean to insinuate anything. I'm certain his family has had contact with him in the last few days, but I can well believe they failed to tell you. Either they wish to protect you or they don't trust you. Either way, you're in the clear. Try them again and let us know if one of them gives away a clue.'

She nodded, forcing herself to exit the office calmly.

* * *

'You see, it's real important that I find Tony,' Jack explained, sipping the ice cold beer he had been offered. 'He needs protection; he doesn't even know a dangerous guy is after him.' He gazed round the old house, enjoying the cool family room, looking at all the photos hung on the wall. 'You got a real nice place.' Slowly he sipped more beer, a drink he'd certainly earned driving down the roads Michelle had warned him about, his eyes on Tony's cousin. 'Come on, Mr. Rosales. You surely don't want anything bad to happen to Tony.'

'No, I don't.' Pedro's elder brother Jose got up and fetched a second beer, eyeing his visitor distrustfully. 'I'm sorry Mr. Bauer; I have no idea where he is. He would know this place would be searched, so he would never come here.'

Jack nodded, resolved to press the man further. 'I'm certain Tony would never put you in a compromising position, sir. I just hoped you could help me get to him, that's all. I understand you know him quite well.'

Jose frowned, laying his beer glass on the table. 'He spent a few weeks here in the summer, years ago, when we were kids. I haven't seen him for a very long time.'

'Have you seen your brother?' Jack inquired casually. 'He would be closer to Tony, being the same age.'

Jose laughed, stretching more comfortably on the couch, his stance indicating to Jack that he considered his line of questioning harmless. 'My brother and Tony never got on, Mr. Bauer. How shall I put it, Pedro's not the type to help anyone. He wouldn't lend me anything when I lost my job and had problems running this place. Hell, he made me work for him and you know he pays far less than the average wage. Never showed me any favors, though we got along well.'

Jack swallowed more beer, deep in thought. 'He had a few guys working for him?'

'Sí, he's a building contractor.'

'Mr. Rosales, it's real important that I talk to him,' Jack said, resolved to get Pedro's address at any cost. 'Like I said, someone's after Tony and will kill him if I can't warn him. Please, sir.'

Jose shook his head. 'I wouldn't know where to find him at the moment, Mr. Bauer. I'm sorry.'

Jack sighed and got up, laying his glass down. 'Thanks for the beer, anyway. I guess someone will tell us where your cousin is soon enough, they're offering half a 1000 000 dollars for him. I just hope I get to him first.'

'Mr. Bauer - wait.' Jack turned in the doorway, wondering who used the swings under the tree a few feet away. 'There's a reward for Tony's capture?'

Jack nodded. 'You know where he is?' he asked.

Jose shook his head. 'What kind of man do you think I am, Mr. Bauer? If he were here I'd have helped him and no one would find him, neither you nor Mexican Intelligence. But if he went to my brother he is in real danger. Pedro is always heavily in debt. The moment he hears there's that kind of reward out, he'll call the police. I'll get you his address.'

'Thanks,' Jack said, checking to see whether he could read the writing on the scrap of paper he was handed.

'It's ok. Just hurry.'

* * *

Tony pulled off the bandage and washed his hands before heading upstairs to the shower. Once again he stood under the hot steam, relieving aching muscles. He could take his time tonight, Pedro had failed to return. All was peaceful, Angelo smoking outside the front door and the entire house empty. He stood motionless until the tank emptied and lukewarm water poured on him. Groaning aloud he turned the tap off and got dressed, carrying his dirty clothes down to the machine. Having only two sets of clothes was proving inconvenient. Tony was unable to go to sleep without a shower, nor could he bring himself to pull on the previous day's dirty clothes. He turned the machine on and walked into the kitchen, reheating the saucepans of food left for them.

'Hi Tony,' Pedro greeted, entering the house as he finished setting the table. 'Did you warm up the dinner? Gracias.'

'Sure,' Tony replied, sitting down. 'Can we eat now? I'm starved. You missed a real performance, you know.'

Pedro laughed, taking his place. 'I stayed for a coffee with some friends. Don't worry Tony, I spoke to the foreman, he mentioned something about you making some wise comments.'

Tony shook his head, eating hungrily. He felt a lot less exhausted than the previous evening, able to enjoy his food. 'I only told him Anjid wouldn't understand him any better if he yelled. He's not deaf.'

'Who the hell's Anjid?' Pedro asked, surprised.

'The guy with the turban. He doesn't like answering to Gunga Din,' Tony explained.

Pedro roared with laughter. 'Yes well, the foreman loved that movie. If he calls the guy Gunga Din, then he IS Gunga Din! He'll learn to answer to it, whether he likes it or not. You want to watch the news?'

Tony nodded, dumping his dishes in the sink. They settled in the family room, watching the TV in silence. He felt his eyes close halfway through and gave up the struggle to keep them open. 'Buenas noches, Pedro. Will you go out to the site tomorrow?'

Pedro nodded, his eyes on the TV.

'Look, are you going out there in the morning? I could use a lift,' Tony pressed.

Pedro glanced at him. 'Ok, why not? I got to check some roof tile delivery. I'll take you. You'll get to sleep in a bit for once.'

'Gracias Pedro, I could use it,' Tony said and walked upstairs, climbing the ladder to his attic. The night was slightly chilly and he removed his clothes rapidly, throwing them over the chair without bothering to turn on the lamp. Michelle's picture lay on the blanket and he reached for it eagerly. _I miss you so much sweetheart. Sure wish I could see you smile. Or maybe you're real pissed off with me at the moment._ Sighing aloud he gazed at the official photo. _You've got every right to be mad, if you are_. Setting the picture on his pillow he pulled his blanket back and crawled onto the mattress, asleep before his head lay beside her.

'I'm working for the US government,' Jack snapped in irritation at the sleepy policeman who held up a stop sign. 'I can't stop, this is urgent.'

'Sí señor, I understand,' the policeman told him, straightening slightly. 'Thing is, the cement is just being poured. That half of the road is impassable and right now the other side is going. I'll stop them now.' He spoke into his radio and soon the stream of cars coming opposite Jack disappeared. The stop sign was removed and he was waved through, cursing the delay under his breath. Hammond had just informed him of the increase in the reward for Tony and he had yelled at him for five steady minutes. 'You're not giving me any time, Brad,' he muttered, pushing the car as fast as it would go.

Tony woke with a start, finding himself flat on his stomach on the cold floor, rough hands pinning him down. He kicked out instinctively, hearing an infuriated curse before someone kicked him in the leg. Hands pulled his arms out from underneath him and forced them behind his back, he heard a telltale click and cold steel closed round his wrists. In despair he kicked out again, his foot connecting sharply with something soft. Someone groaned and released his arms temporarily and he spun around, catching sight of three Mexican policemen. He pushed himself up and raced for the hatch, ignoring their guns pointed at him. _You're NEVER gonna shoot a foreigner_. 'Stop, Almeida. It's over.'

Tony's headlong flight was blocked by Pedro, who pushed him backwards, pulling a gun onto him. 'Don't try me, cousin.'

The Mexican police reached him an instant later, tackled him to the ground and tightened the cuffs, pinning him down while they shackled his feet. 'Prisoner secure,' one said into his radio and Tony was pulled up by his hair. 'Move it, Almeida. Try anything at all, I'll sedate you.'

Pedro moved aside, following the group as they negotiated the ladder. Another three police waited in the small bedroom, falling into place round Tony. They pushed him down the stairs rapidly, not leaving him a chance to get his bearings. Angelo opened the door and Tony was pushed through the open doors of a police van and secured to a seat.

'Wait a minute,' Pedro demanded, grabbing the arm of an officer who had watched the proceedings without comment. 'My information was correct, you've captured Almeida. When will I get my money?'

'You'll get it, Señor Rosales, probably tomorrow morning,' the Captain answered.

'That's not good enough,' Pedro insisted, preventing his departure. 'How do I know the Americans won't just move him by then? I need my money tonight!'

'How much did they promise you, Pedro? Thirty silver pieces about right?' Tony asked, giving his cousin a disgusted look.

'Shut it, Almeida! You've caused us more work than anyone before you. You'll get paid Señor, tomorrow. Let's move.'

The door slammed shut behind Tony and two armed police and they drove off, bumping over the rough road. The police kept their eyes peeled on him, convinced he was a threat, while he moved his cuffed hands slowly hoping to free himself somehow. Less than ten minutes later the van pulled up and the door opened. He was unshackled and pushed into a dark courtyard surrounded by a high wall. Someone pushed a gun into his ribs, prodding him forwards. Thick wooden doors opened and he was grabbed by both arms and dragged inside.

Bright lights revealed a long room with a counter at one end. Tony was dragged past it and down a narrow corridor, the gun never leaving his side. They stopped before a solid steel door which was unlocked with a large key and he was pushed into a cell. The door slammed behind him, leaving him in pitch darkness. 'Hey,' Tony yelled, turning to face the door. 'My cuffs. You're supposed to take them off in here!'

Silence greeted his words, broken by the sound of several pairs of footsteps moving further down the corridor.


	14. In Mexican Custody

Michelle fidgeted in her office failing to find a comfortable spot on her chair, concentrating on her up-coming interview with District Director Hodgeson. She had a strong feeling she knew why he had decided to visit Division that day and especially why he had asked to speak to her – to suspend her until such time as Tony would be back in custody. Rather than feeling rightful indignation another emotion – worry - threatened to choke her. She wished she had Tony's strong faith and was able to pray for Divine assistance. As the minutes passed she buried her head in her hands and steeled herself to deal with a critical lecture. It used to be Tony who had been forced to listen to all kinds of criticism from Division before. Well, she was about to discover what that was like for herself. It was a relief to be summoned to enter the office.

Hodgeson rose to greet her, waving his hand at a chair. She collected her thoughts rapidly as she sat down, all her instincts warning her that her assumptions were incorrect. There had obviously been a new development. Filled with dread she raised her eyes to face him. 'We have him in custody, Agent Dessler.'

'Where is he? Is he okay? How is he coming home?' she asked trembling. 'Who has him?'

Hodgeson gave her a penetrating stare at her final question. 'I can tell you've spoken to Jack Bauer,' he observed. 'Right now I'm waiting to see how this plays out. I'd like you to stay here for the day, in case he is returned. He hasn't been cooperative during interrogation, maybe the sight of you…'

'"In case he's returned,'" she echoed. 'Who's protecting Tony, sir?'

'Jack Bauer,' he sighed. 'Agent Dessler, you are in no way a suspect in this affair. You may return to your office and continue your work. I'll be staying here for the day,' he said, using the spacious office reserved for visiting officials from District.

'Thank you sir, I'd appreciate doing my work. I'm a little behind with some reports,' she said unemotionally. She returned to her office and sighed aloud. What in the world was happening to Tony? She longed to call Jack but knew he needed to focus on his task now. Instead she picked up her phone and dialed Cedric, a man whom she had hired and asked whether he had located the interrogation room's tape yet.

'They're here, Ms Dessler,' the young IT man told her nervously, moving over to her computer. She gave him a hurried nod as he pulled it up for her. 'I'll have to delete it right after, in case Mr. Hammond…'

'Of course,' she told him and clicked to open it. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched a bruised Tony sitting in front of Hammond. Ten minutes later, fists clenched, she watched Morris pull out his electrodes. _Oh no, no, they didn't_. "You had enough yet, Almeida? Surely you can't want this to continue?" "No, please stop. For God's sake, Brad, I didn't do it. Check my intel, I was looking…" "Continue." She placed a hand over her mouth as her stomach gave a violent lurch.

* * *

Sunlight filtered through a tiny window high up in the cell woke Tony. He stirred, attempting to put his arms down to push himself up, shocked to find them cuffed behind his back. He rolled over and slid off the hard bed he had eventually collapsed onto, remembering the previous night's events. He had fallen asleep on his mattress and Pedro had called the police and they had captured him. Tony ran the word "arrest" over his tongue, but it hadn't exactly happened that way. They had come at night, dragging him outside without warning, holding him without having informed any of his relatives of his whereabouts.

_You failed, Almeida! Of all the things you considered, Pedro's betrayal was not one of them. Now they'll take you back and Hammond will start questioning you again and if you survive it they'll put you in prison till they hang you, coz no one in the world would believe your innocence after this!_ He groaned in despair, cursing himself for his stupidity. _Focus, Almeida. You slipped up badly, but you're not back in the US yet. You've got to get out of here somehow, and immediately_.

Tony stood up and leaned against a wall, surveying his surroundings. He had attempted to estimate its size the night before in the total darkness. A part of his brain congratulated himself on his skills, noting that he had indeed estimated correctly. The cell was tiny, five foot by eight, containing nothing beyond the narrow cot he had slept on and a dirty yellow bucket. The stench emanating from its general direction was enough to make him gag and he turned away, stumbling over to the window. It was much too small for him to crawl through, even if he could somehow remove the bars. The only other option was the door, which he examined with interest. It was locked securely, moving a quarter of an inch when he leaned against it. Kneeling down, he pressed his eye to the keyhole, seeing the corridor he had been dragged through the night before. It was short and dim with steel doors leading off it at regular intervals. A door made entirely of bars stood at the end of it and beyond that lay the reception area. Tony attempted to move a little, struggling to see how many people there were, but there was no way for him to do so. Sighing heavily he returned to the bed, sitting on it.

A few minutes later he heard the steel door being unlocked and two police appeared. One placed a tray in his slot and left without a word. 'Hey, take the cuffs off, I need my hands,' Tony protested, his mouth to the keyhole.

They walked away and he sank onto his bed in despair. His breakfast sat on the tray and he was unable to get to it. Less than a minute later the footsteps returned. Tony got up as his door was unlocked, facing four armed men and the same captain who had supervised his arrest the previous evening. 'Turn round and face the wall, Almeida. I'm going to take your handcuffs off while you eat. You'd better not try anything at all.'

Tony remained silent, standing motionless with his freed wrists clasped behind his back. 'Ok, you may eat. I'll be back later.' He sipped a cup of coffee and ate a few pieces of fruit and toast with cheese, wondering whether he was given such a good breakfast because he was an American. Once he finished he returned his tray to the slot and sat back on the bed, planning his escape. Footsteps distracted him, he found himself watching the door.

'Open that door.'

'Sí Señor.'

'What's the condition of the prisoner? Is he healthy?'

'Sí Señor. We didn't lay a hand on him, I swear. You may check,' the police captain insisted. From his worried tone Tony gathered he was about to receive an important visitor.

'I intend to. Antonio Almeida is wanted by the Americans, not us. He has not committed any crimes here. Open the door.'

The door opened and Tony rose, coming face to face with Miguel Alvarez - his counterpart in Mexican Intelligence. He chewed his lip, remembering their previous meeting in LA, after a dull party thrown at Division. 'You wanna leave?' he'd inquired, hoping to hear an affirmative answer, for the man was his responsibility for the duration of his visit. 'Sí, I do. That man with the eyes of a frozen fish is killing the atmosphere!' He had been forced to rub his face vigorously, hiding his mouth. 'He's one of my bosses, Brad Hammond. Should I drop you back at your hotel?' Miguel had shrugged, glancing at his watch. 'It's a little early. I've never been to LA before. Tell me some entertaining places to visit and I'll go.' Tony nodded and went in search of Michelle. 'Sweetheart, I've had about as much as I can take of this "party." What say we take Miguel out a coupla hours?'

Miguel waved a hand at the door and it closed silently behind him. He stared at Tony for a few seconds in complete silence, his eyes hard. 'Sit,' he ordered, pointing to the bed. Tony sat down and placed his hands in his lap, fixing his gaze on the opposite wall. Sooner or later he would hear exactly what he was wanted for from the confused man in front of him. 'Ok, start talking! I want to hear it all, before the Americans arrive.'

Tony chewed his lip, his gaze sliding to the floor. 'I mean right now, Tony. They'll be here within the hour. My boss saw fit to inform them of your presence earlier this morning.'

Tony nodded, knowing he would have acted the same way had Miguel been a hunted fugitive in LA. 'Ok, I'll tell you what I can, right? It's a matter of national security, it goes no further.' He raised his eyes to meet Miguel's, who nodded. 'A coupla months ago a ship was attacked in the port in Kuwait, and my research helped capture the men responsible, those who were there, that is. There was one more working in the States, I was searching for him. Turns out he sold all kinds of other intel I never knew about. I had to do some hacking….' He got up restlessly, pacing the room.

'Did you get a name?' Miguel demanded.

'No, I never got a chance. I narrowed the list down to two guys and then I was arrested at home and dragged over to Division and charged with being that mole. That's what they told you, right?'

Miguel remained silent for a while, frowning at the window. 'Sí, you're right. You're wanted for selling secrets to just about the whole world.'

Tony swallowed. He leaned against the wall, resting his head against the cold stone. 'And you believe them?'

His counterpart shook his head, his lips pursed together. 'You're also armed and dangerous, you took a hostage. Want to explain that away too, Tony?'

Tony closed his eyes. His actions had indeed been deplorable, being enough to earn him a prison sentence by themselves. Neither man spoke, the silence broken by the sounds of a few noisy men being dragged down the corridor. Eventually he spoke, aware Miguel deserved an explanation after the pressure his own government must have put on him. 'Yeah, I took a hostage. They refused to listen to me, they pushed me real hard and I had nothing further to tell them. Dammit Miguel, I couldn't see myself locked away again. I grabbed Hammond and had him drive me over to some distant beach, where I left him cuffed at the bottom of some rocks, but I swear I didn't lay a hand on him!'

Miguel turned away, an incredulous look on his face. 'You took fish eyes hostage and dumped him on a beach!' He burst out laughing, wiping a few tears from his eyes, before he sobered. 'Oh shit, Tony, they'll lock you up and throw away the key!'

Tony nodded. 'I know. They'll only find it when they come to hang me.'

'Sí no one will have any doubt that you are the mole. They'll only start to figure it out when other things get passed on, but for you it might be too late. I knew I should not come and question you,' Miguel said with a groan.

'Listen Miguel, I don't expect you to believe me just like that, without any evidence. But there's one guy who's looking for me, to help me, I trust him with my life. He's an American agent, his name is Jack Bauer.' He gazed at Miguel, hoping to see some response to the name.

'Ah, Jack Bauer, I've certainly heard of him! What do you want me to do?'

'I'd need you to call him and tell him where I am. Please Miguel, I need to know what my prospects are. It's just a phone call,' Tony begged.

Miguel nodded and reached for his phone. 'Tell me the number.' Presently he held up a finger, frowning at the impatient Tony. 'It's ringing. Wait a bit, ok. Ah, Jack Bauer. Good morning. I'm Miguel Alvarez, anti terrorist unit. I got Almeida in custody.' He listened for a while without comment, while Tony struggled to contain his impatience and grab the phone. 'Ok, I'll pass it to him and go deal with that. I hope I won't end up in your country on death row, in a cell between the pair of you!' He placed a hand over the phone. 'Tony, I need to go outside for a while. I'm going to unshackle your feet, but you'll have to stay here.' Tony nodded, waiting while his feet were freed and he was left alone in the cell.

'Jack?' he asked, holding the phone in his moist hands. 'What's going on? They're convinced I'm the mole, right?' He swallowed, praying it wasn't so.

'Tony, I'm on my way, I'll be there in an hour and a half. Miguel's gonna try and delay your departure as long as he can, and he'll track you if he can't. I need you to sit tight.'

' "Sit tight?"' Tony echoed. 'You know, I don't have a lot of choice right now, Jack! Don't tell me you're coming to drag me home and hand me over to Hammond!'

'Would you listen for a minute, Tony!' Jack snapped, irritation plain in his voice. 'I haven't slept for the past two days, I'm driving down some highway in the middle of nowhere, I've spoken to some of your extremely hostile relatives, and I've got Hammond on my back. Now let me tell you what's going on, ok?'

'Sure,' Tony answered, getting up and pacing the room restlessly. 'I'm going home to fry.' He rolled his eyes at the phone. 'Ok, it's your turn to talk. Isn't that right, Jack?'

'Drop the attitude,' Jack snapped, his tone reminiscent of the early days when Tony had worked for him at CTU. Tony rubbed his face and settled on the bed, pulling the blanket round his shoulders. His initial shock was over and the chill of the perpetually dim cell was getting to him. 'You calmed down now?'

'Yeah,' he replied, glancing at the locked door. American agents would enter soon and place him in cuffs again. His heart ached.

'Ok, you're in the middle of some serious stuff, Tony. Hodgeson over at District is aware he's got a mole and its not you, but he can't discover the man either, he's covered his tracks too well. He's ordered every department over there to find you and bring you back and he's watching, to see which one is the mole, coz he won't want to return you alive!'

'Great,' Tony muttered under his breath.

Jack ignored the interruption. 'They've put a price on your head, half a million dollars and they knew someone would find that kinda money irresistible. Anyway, are you listening, Tony?'

'Half a million dollars,' Tony whispered incredulously. 'I never guessed I was worth anything like that!'

'Not you, the mole's arrest. Now Hodgeson doesn't want the mole to kill you and dump your body, he wants the mole caught, so he's ordered Hammond to locate you and set up agents to see who'll get to you from District, only no one's been able to find you so far. Now Tony, you can't tell anyone what I just told you, right?'

'Sure,' he agreed. 'What do you want me to do?' A chill ran down his spine as his option of escaping at the first possible opportunity disappeared. 'You want me to wait for the agents and go with them?'

Jack sighed. 'I know it's asking a lot, especially as they'll try to kill you on the way, but yeah, Tony.' He fell silent, hating what he'd asked the other man to do. 'I'll join you as soon as I can. Tony, its imperative you find out the name of the man who sent the agents, you can run after that. Whatever you do, don't let them put you on a plane. If all else fails, you'll have to escape from them.'

'It's ok, Jack,' he said slowly, rubbing his face. 'We got a mole, and I'll draw him out. I'm ok with that.'

'You're a good guy, Tony,' Jack said softly. 'Hang in there, I'll be there soon.'

'I'll be fine,' Tony insisted, his mind churning. 'Jack, tell me something, alright. When this is over, presuming I'm still alive, will they let me walk?' He scratched his face uneasily. 'Or will they prosecute me and put me in prison for the hacking and for Hammond?'

'They'll let you go, Tony. You won't face any charges,' Jack promised.

Loud voices broke his concentration. 'Hold on,' Tony said, and moved over to the door, peering through the keyhole. A dozen armed agents stood before the barred door, arguing with Miguel. 'They're here already. I see around twelve guys, but no one I know. I got to go.'

'Good luck, Tony,' Jack said, hanging up and driving as fast as the road would allow.

Tony hid the phone under the blanket, aware he would be searched the moment they entered his cell and returned to the door, his eye to the keyhole. His heart beat rapidly, but he found a deep peace he always experienced before combat. Right now the priority was the uncovering of the mole and he would give his life to do so, if necessary.

'No, you may not have access to the prisoner alone. This is Mexico, I cannot permit that. I will have to accompany you,' Miguel insisted. 'You'll have to agree to that, or you don't get to go in.' He stood his ground and the leader of the group finally acquiesced. The steel door was unlocked and Tony rushed back to the other side of the cell, having no desire to be caught staring. He leaned against the wall in the corner and folded his arms, his eyes on the door.

Six men entered his cell, their leader remaining beside the door, his gun trained on Tony, the rest unarmed. Miguel frowned and turned to him outraged. 'Holster that weapon. I won't have a prisoner shot in custody over here.'

'Mr. Alvarez, this is our operation. No one will blame you or your country. Now we have orders to prepare Almeida for his return to LA, we have no desire to kill him.' He turned to the agents. 'I want Almeida searched.'

Two men grabbed Tony by his arms, dragging him out of the corner. 'Take your hands off me,' he muttered, shaking his arms. 'I can undress myself!' Without waiting for further comments he pulled off the faded green t-shirt and laid it on the bed, followed by the torn undershirt. Miguel watched in sympathy as he removed his threadbare jeans and pants, standing before them naked. The leader of the agents ordered his clothes to be searched and they examined every thread while he stood on the cold tiles, trying to stop shivering.

'Alright, search him,' the leader ordered, and Tony was surrounded and pushed further into the center of the cell. 'Don't even think of moving, Almeida,' he ordered, which Tony refused to acknowledge. The search was identical to the ones carried out regularly in prison, every unpleasant aspect familiar to him. Only Miguel's presence disturbed him as he was ordered to rise, face burning with humiliation. He noticed his counterpart's eyes on the floor, sharing his embarrassment. 'Now then Almeida, I'll permit you to wear this trash,' he said, nodding his head at the clothes. 'Enjoy them, for you'll be changing to prison blue real soon!'

'A minute, Señor Andrews,' Miguel said, his eyes flickering to his watch. 'You cannot think of moving the prisoner in this condition. Under Mexican law no person held in custody is permitted to be transported until he has been given a shower and generally tidied up. All prisoners merit a little dignity.'

Agent Andrews gave an irritated sigh. 'And you Mexicans are real keen to uphold that law, right? No, don't bother to answer. Where's your bathroom?'

'Right at the end of the corridor,' Miguel told him and Tony noticed his sudden unease. _Of course, he's never been here! He has no idea what condition the bathroom is in, but it's probably not gonna be too good! You're a real decent guy, Miguel, trying to keep me here till Jack arrives. _

'Get moving, Almeida,' Andrews ordered, motioning towards the door with his rifle. 'Hands behind your back.' Two agents grabbed his arms; the rest surrounded him as he was marched three doors further along the corridor and halted before the last door. A Mexican policeman unlocked it and they stepped inside, switching on the light.

It was almost completely dark inside before the neon light flickered on. Tony found himself on bare concrete, a shower directly in front of him with a broken head and a rough bench on the other side of the door. A cracked mirror hung on the wall opposite the bench, swinging from a nail in the draught. Miguel pulled an impassive face, nodding his head towards the shower. 'It's broken, you'll have to put a finger inside to direct the drops,' he said. He gave Tony a long look and he nodded, turning on the only tap, drenched with ice cold water.

His heart beat rapidly while he forced himself to take several deep breaths, shaking from the cold. _I appreciate what you're doing, Miguel, but this is real hard to take. You'll have to think of something else, I can't stay here for half an hour!_

He bore the cold as long as he could, watching the agents from District standing round the room. Teeth pressed together to prevent them from chattering he put a foot out, withdrawing it as he saw Miguel's frown. 'You're going to need to wash your hair,' Miguel said, turning to an agent. 'Go and ask the man at the desk for some shampoo. As per regulations,' he stated unemotionally to the increasingly impatient Agent Andrews. The agent disappeared and Tony risked leaving the cold water for a minute, arms pressed tight against his ribs, shivering from head to toe. Presently the door opened again and the agent returned with a bottle, and he was forced back inside, wishing Jack would hurry.

'Alright, that's enough, Almeida,' Andrews snapped, his patience at an end. 'Get out and get dressed, that's an order! You've delayed us long enough!'

Tony left the shower gratefully, glancing round for his towel. Miguel handed him one and he rubbed himself dry, pulling on his clothes as slowly as he dared. 'I had a sweater,' he explained to Miguel, sitting on the bench to pull on his sandals. 'It was left in Pedro Rosales's house. Do you think someone brought it?'

'I'll check,' Miguel told him and spoke into the radio. 'You're lucky Tony; they brought all your stuff over. A policeman will bring it in a sec. Now sit on that bench and wait a bit.'

'What the hell are we waiting for now?' demanded Andrews, glaring openly at Miguel. 'The sun to go nova? I've got orders to transport this prisoner home.'

'And you shall sir, as soon as he's ready to go,' Miguel said, turning as a policeman entered. 'Shave the prisoner, Mario.' He turned back to Andrews. 'I won't have a foreign prisoner returned home in that state,' he explained, nodding his head at Tony's face. 'Next day it would be all over your newspapers – prisoners denied rights in Mexico! You'll just have to bear with me a little longer.'

Andrews kicked the wall in silent fury. 'Alright, Alvarez, have the prisoner shaved if you must, but we're leaving directly after it's over! Almeida, hands behind your back. You don't imagine you're getting a razor, do you!' He cuffed Tony to the bottom of the bench, leaning against the damp concrete.

Miguel left the room, returning moments before the policeman finished. He shook his head slightly. Tony was released and ordered to wash his face in the small sink. He glanced at himself in the mirror, surprised to find himself so tidy after three weeks. 'Your sweater,' Miguel explained and he pulled it on, reveling in the warmth.

'Alright Almeida, lets go,' Andrews ordered, grabbing the cuffs.


	15. Timely Assistance

Bright sunlight reflected off white stone blinded Tony as they emerged into the tiny courtyard. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to place his hands over them as they were cuffed securely behind his back. Instead he turned his face downwards, giving himself a few seconds to adjust.

A large black van stood outside the door and he was pushed over to it. 'Get inside, Almeida. Mr. Alvarez thanks for all your help.'

Miguel threw him an encouraging nod and laid a hand on his phone, letting him know he would contact Jack and tell him where they were headed. Tony nodded back, resolved to call and thank him should everything work according to plan.

An agent pushed Tony firmly onto the seat and pulled out two more cuffs with which he restrained him. Tony chewed his lip, forcing himself to sit passively while his feet were shackled to two iron rings on the floor. He ignored a strong urge to lash out and tear his restraints apart and run as far as he could, knowing he had to allow his capture to discover the mole. _You'll behave real well, Almeida, right up until someone tries to shoot you. Then you better get some names quick!_ He wondered which of the agents was entrusted with murdering him and how he planned to carry it out, surrounded by all the others.

Agent Andrews settled opposite him and the door was slammed shut on them, leaving them all in semi darkness. 'Let me warn you, Almeida, try anything at all, you'll regret it,' Andrews told him, a challenge in his tone. 'I know all about your tendency to leave custody. You won't leave mine alive.' Tony remained silent, head bowed, feeling the van start up. Doors were slammed and it gathered speed, jolting him as it sped over dozens of ill repaired holes. He struggled to remember the location of the nearest airfield. The town he was in didn't sport anything remotely like a landing field but Chihuahua certainly did. It would give him around an hour before he would be forced to attempt to flee.

A blow to his arm shocked him back to the present and he gasped in pain, instinctively moving his wrists to rub the ache. Chains clanged as his cuffs tightened, held in place by the iron rings. He let out a deep breath and raised his eyes, seeing Andrews' smirk.

'That woke you up, Almeida? I thought it might. I expect your full attention when I address you. Is that clear?'

'Yeah,' Tony muttered, glaring at him.

'Good. Now I want you to repeat my warning. What did I just tell you?'

'That you want my full attention when you speak,' Tony repeated, unable to protect himself from the descending rifle butt. Once again his right arm was struck, inches away from his wound. 'Dammit, Andrews, what's your game? You touch me again, my lawyer will file a complaint and you'll be suspended!'

'Is that so?' Andrews inquired, raising the rifle a third time. It connected with Tony's arm harder than on the previous occasions, directly above the healing wound. Tears of pain filled his eyes, while he struggled to keep silent, chewing his upper lip. 'You hear him threatening me? Just what kinda rights do you think you still got, Almeida? You betrayed us all, damn you to hell. My friend was captured, you bastard and he's missing. Hopefully they killed him by now. You're gonna pay for it you know, for every one of those agents you sent to their deaths. You're gonna fry!'

Tony gazed at the ground, his heart sinking. This man would beat him to within an inch of consciousness before they even reached the plane, justifiably outraged over the compromised agents. _Come on Jack, I could use your help around now._

'They said you knew one of them, Ben Green. You worked with him at CTU and now you blew his cover. He's dead.' Once again the rifle descended, this time on his head. The ferocity of the blow knocked him sideways, the agent beside him pushing him back into an upright position while the van spun sickening around him. Tony tasted blood where he had bitten his tongue and swallowed it down, not daring to spit it on the floor. _Ben's dead! Oh God, he didn't deserve that. He was real decent when I started at CTU, helping me out and even covering for me once when I was a little late and Chappelle visited the place._

'You don't give a damn about anyone, do you?' the outraged Andrews continued. 'And now you're going home and you'll get a fair trial and a nice cozy prison cell in return for your cooperation! You'll get cable TV, a swimming pool, and if anyone lays a hand on you, you'll call your lawyer. What the hell rights do you think those agents are gonna receive?' Tony turned his face away, closing his eyes as the rifle swung at him sideways, raising a bruise along his forehead. 'Not many, I guess! And I'm gonna forget about yours, too. You better pray this plane doesn't get delayed. I don't care if they suspend me, I'll resign first!'

_You got a real weird idea of prison, Andrews._ An uneasy thought crossed his mind. Would it be Andrews who would kill him, having five agents testify that he was mentally distressed over his friend's capture? It was possible, but he doubted it. He would hardly beat him so hard if he expected to kill him later. His behavior showed he fully expected Tony to evade his due punishment and his burning eyes showed his indignation. _So if not you, then who?_ The other agents watched without comment, unwilling to intervene.

'What have you got to say for yourself, Almeida?'

Tony turned away, the shadow of the rifle warning him seconds before it slammed into his ribs. His breath was knocked out of him and he struggled for air, feeling himself pushed backwards by the same agent.

'I'm warning you, Almeida. Gimme a reason a man would care so little about someone they said was his friend?'

Tony raised his head and returned Andrews' gaze. 'I didn't betray anyone. You want it to stop, you better find the real culprit.'

'Bloody liar! You think that will save you?' yelled Andrews, raising the rifle again.

'He's had enough, Andrews,' protested the agent into whom he kept sliding. 'I'm sure they wanna interrogate him, he'll get what he's due there.'

'Not for long enough,' muttered Andrews, hate in his eyes. 'Stay outa this, Miller!' Tony caught the shadow of the rifle raised again, bracing himself.

* * *

'They're transferring him to the airport,' Bill told her, putting his head into her office. 'He should be on the plane within two hours and home by 14:00. Just thought you'd like to know.'

'Bill, wait,' Michelle called, standing up in a hurry. 'Who's in charge of collecting him?'

'Agent Andrews from Division. He's got an impeccable record; you've no need to worry. He'll bring Tony back alright.'

Michelle thanked him again and sat back down before she gave in to her urge to pace the room. Never had she felt more helpless. She tried searching for Andrews' latest assignment but found nothing. Tony would have a coffee were he waiting for news from a mission. Her hands felt along the desk and closed round the Cubs mug which she had taken to work with her since Tony's disappearance for reasons she was unclear about herself. _Who are you kidding, Michelle? You brought it with you again to feel closer to him. You always drink from his mug when he's away, it's like a silent plea from him to return and repossess it_. Clutching the handle tighter in her hands she squeezed her eyes shut, unable to prevent the picture of Hammond sitting in Tony's office while he was held prisoner in the holding room after the virus outbreak.

'_They're in a box. Kim put it by your locker,' Chloe informed her as she stumbled round CTU dazed._

'_What?' she managed to ask. They've taken Tony; they've taken him to prison!_

'_His things,' Chloe told her a little more tactfully than usual. 'Hammond didn't want them. He cleared all Tony's stuff in a box. I don't think he'll be allowed to keep them in jail so you might as well take them home. It could help you remember him!'_

'_Shut up, Chloe,' she'd cried in despair. 'I don't need his stuff to remind me of him, he'll be home soon. They'll release him!' She rushed to her locker, hating the pitying look Chloe had given her and found a brown cardboard box lying on the floor. Collapsing beside it she pulled out his treasured items thrown inside so carelessly. On the top she found a photo of them on their honeymoon, arms wrapped round each other. Below that lay his favorite grey sweater which he often changed into when he was forced to work late at night. Underneath that she discovered several more photos of herself taken just before she moved in with him, a few of which she hadn't seen before. Seeing her insanely happy look made the tears flow harder, blinding_ _her to the remaining item at the bottom of the box. Her fingers groped for it and she pulled a cold shape out, wrapping her hands round a handle before she guessed what it could be and let out a loud sob. 'He's gonna need this.'_

'_He needs this Jack, I got to get it to him,' she sobbed in the rec room where Jack had discovered her sitting on a couch with her knees drawn up to her chin, clutching the mug to her stomach. 'He always drinks his coffee from this. We got to take it to him. You know the warden, tell him Tony's got to have it…'_

_Jack had slipped his arm around her. 'You know they're never going to allow a mug inside federal,' he told her. 'Take it home, Michelle. Hey, I'll do everything I can to get him out. He'll use it again, ok.'_

'Be careful, Tony,' she whispered, clutching the mug to her again. 'Please be careful.'

* * *

'From the look in his eyes, you'd better hurry,' Miguel said. 'He's gonna deal with Tony long before they reach that plane.'

'I'm on my way,' Jack promised, watching the road ahead of him. 'It would really help if you could give me a precise location.'

'Well, you're in luck there. I put a tracker on the van,' Miguel told him. 'They're about 150 miles from the airfield, which they should approach without the need to cross town. Right now they're approaching the Conchos River. Hold on, they're stopping. How far are you?'

'Five minutes away,' Jack answered. 'You might wanna send an ambulance this way, just in case.'

* * *

Tony was pushed out, landing face forwards in the weeds at the edge of the road. His stomach heaved again, even as his body registered the pain from the fall. 'Watch him,' Andrews said, his voice floating over as he retched. The remainder of his breakfast poured out of him while he gasped for breath, shivering despite the heat. His head ached, his ribs hurt and his stomach had a sharp pain which refused to leave, while his arm throbbed. For an awful moment he struggled with his tears, refusing to allow any to drop.

'Get some of those weeds and clean out the floor,' snapped Andrews' voice, clearer now that he had pulled himself together. 'The place stinks!'

'Sir, you kinda asked for it,' one younger agent replied, pulling armfuls of weeds out and passing them into the van. 'You shouldn't have bashed his stomach that often.'

'I don't recall asking for your opinion, Abel. Now get inside and clean the place. Who's watching Almeida?'

'I am,' Miller called, standing a few feet away, his gun trained on Tony. 'He's ok now, sir.'

'No he's not,' Andrews exclaimed, moving over to give him a final kick. Tony fell forwards, unable to prevent his fall without the use of his hands. 'He stinks. Clean him up a bit in that river, he'll never be allowed on the plane!'

'Yes sir,' Miller said, reaching forward to haul Tony to his feet. 'You heard him, Almeida. I'm gonna need Abel and Garrison as back-up in case he tries anything.'

'You got it,' Andrews called, watching as the two agents surrounded Tony. 'Not that he's in a condition to run for it, but we won't take any chances. Just throw him in a couple of times.'

'Move it Almeida, straight ahead,' Miller ordered and Tony stumbled over to the river, finding himself pushed inside. 'Get in. No further.' Miller grabbed his hair and pushed him under, holding him a few seconds before pulling him up. He examined the prisoner critically before pushing him back.

'Keep him under a bit longer,' Andrews remarked, joining them on the bank. Tony took a shuddering breath of air, wondering how long he would be required to hold it as he was again pushed under. His last sight was of the clear blue sky and green water plants before his eyes shut. Shots rang out while he was submerged and he struggled to free himself vehemently.

He found himself released as he sat up, gasping for air. Abel and Garrison lay dead beside him, their brains blown away and Andrews lay on the ground, clutching his neck. _It's beginning._ _Three agents are down Almeida, watch out. Most likely the rest are out to kill you. _He crawled behind a group of reeds, hauled out moments later by another agent who had watched the executions from further along the shore. 'We got him, Miller. You take out the rest?'

'Yes, they're dead.' Miller returned, forcing Tony to his knees. 'Keep him there.'

_Looks like you got a little respect! They sent four assassins, Almeida!_ He struggled in the agents' grip, desperate to free himself and discover the name of the mole that had sent them. Being murdered on the highway would solve nothing for CTU, quite apart from that fact that he wanted to live. His desire to live was stronger than at any previous critical time. He had been pardoned for treason and Michelle had waited for him. It really wasn't the time to be killed.

Two agents cuffed his arms around a tree as Miller took a step backwards, snapped an order to the other agents to return to the van and raised his gun. 'God help me,' Tony whispered, hearing a shot ring out. He wondered why he heard it at all, knowing he shouldn't have, before he saw Miller topple forwards.

'Jack, watch out, there's more in the van,' he yelled, a fraction too late. Another shot rang out and his friend fell forwards, surrounded by the two concealed agents.

'Is he dead?'

Tony's heart twisted as he waited for the answer, held forcibly in place by his cuffs. In one instant Jack rose, shooting both of them while Tony watched, praying aloud for success. 'Jack, Cedric's gone,' he shouted, struggling with his cuffs. 'He ran that way, downriver.'

Jack sank down, his face twisting in pain. 'Jack, are you ok?' Tony demanded, struggling harder.

'Stay where you are Tony, I'll release you,' Jack told him, crawling over to Andrews to collect a key. He made it over to Tony on hands and knees, and Tony slid lower to enable him to unlock the cuffs.

'Jack, you're hurt. Lemme see.'

Jack shook his head. 'Just go, Tony. Agent Cedric's out there, he'll call for back-up and we're no wiser. You've got to keep going.'

'I can't leave you,' Tony protested, pulling up Jack's t-shirt. 'It's in your shoulder, there's no exit wound.'

Jack gave an angry exclamation. 'Dammit Tony, the ambulance is already on the way. National security is more important than my life, now go!'

'You've just joined their hit list,' Tony told him, reaching forward to pick up a gun. 'They'll say you came to help me, they're gonna take you back home in cuffs, they'll…'

'I know all that,' Jack told him, allowing Tony to prop him against a tree. 'Tony, they'll call me a rogue agent, I've been called that before. I'll be fine; I'll spend a little time in a hospital. They don't have anything else on me except that I helped an old friend, so don't worry, they won't try to shoot me. I'm sorry, ok.'

'For what?' Tony asked, wrapping a make-shift bandage round his shoulder. 'You just saved my life.'

'For being unable to help you any further. We don't know who sent Miller, but… Tony, wait a minute.' Jack grabbed his arm and Tony settled next to him. 'Cedric'll call his boss. The mole might even get worried now, if he's not sure how much I know and when you'll surface and talk. He might come take charge of your capture personally this time. Disappear in some wilderness where you can keep your eyes open and make certain you leave a few tracks. Give me a coupla days to recover from this and I'll track whoever comes after you. You got it, Tony? They've got to be able to track you, but not right away. Take care.'

'Oh, I will. I kinda hoped it would all be over today, but…' He shrugged. 'I'm going west, Jack. There's a large wilderness area there, he'll take a while to track me and hopefully you can trace the leaks to him while he's occupied. It would help if you'd have access to Cedric's phone.'

Tony got up and returned to the river, carrying Andrews back with him. 'He got a bullet in the neck, he's still alive. Can you keep pressure there till the ambulance arrives?'

Jack nodded, waving his hand at the river. 'Go Tony, or you'll be recaptured and the mole will go free. We're fine.'

Tony nodded and placed the gun in the holster he put on. 'Good luck, Jack.'

'You too,' Jack answered, his fingers tight on Andrews' neck. 'And be real careful, Tony. They might not listen to me, so you'll find yourself blamed for these murders as well.'

'Yeah,' Tony said, getting up and stumbling away, forcing his sore body to move fast. The river turned and he walked into it following it along, determined to lose any trackers. _This is never gonna be over. Now Jack is hurt and you're totally alone. You're wanted for just about every crime under the sun, you've got half a million dollars on your head and a dangerous agent who's determined to kill you. Whatever you do, lie low!_

The sun shone directly above him as he walked and he longed for the hat he had left behind in Pedro's house. Soon he pulled his sweater off and tied it round his waist, stopping to drink a little water. He wondered whether the water was drinkable, but there was little other choice. Tony estimated half an hour before a massive man hunt would begin with himself as the target and he determined to put as much distance between the dead agents and himself as possible. Birds sang around him as hurried startling him with their sudden cries. _Focus, Almeida. Sure this resembles a place you'd have gone to on family picnics, but you're not here for that now. Right now you got to keep moving and buy Jack a little time to discover who sent those agents after you. Chances are, they'll need to track you down again before any concrete evidence can be pinned on someone._

A distant hum shattered the peace and he paused, listening. 'Helicopters,' he muttered in despair to a water bird arranging its feathers. Tony glanced round hurriedly for a place to conceal himself, coming up blank. His training kicked in automatically and he grabbed a reed, sucking air through it. Satisfied it would double as a straw he waded into a deeper part of the river, surrounded by hundreds of reeds and lay on the riverbed, his pipeline one among a crowd. _Easy Almeida, there'll be men on the ground and probably dogs too. Stay put and don't move! You've been trained to spend hours this way, you've done it before._ He had really, though things hadn't worked perfectly the first time. He sucked steadily on the straw, too exhausted to grin at the memory of himself years ago, a few weeks into Marine training, when Sergeant Wills had taken the platoon out to an exposed field and yelled that their cover had been blown, they were to conceal themselves on the double! _He had glanced around, drawing the full wrath of the impatient instructor. "Where the hell are you looking, Almeida? The wrong place, as usual! You're to take a reed, breath through it and hide in the lake. The water's not real clean," he had added unnecessarily, "don't drink any! Move it!" Tony had hesitated a second longer than the rest, amazed to hear the weed covered pond referred to as a 'lake.' Sergeant Wills had grabbed him from behind and had given him a vicious push, shaking his head as he had fallen in. "Right away, Almeida!" He had waded in, picked a reed and settled on the ground, shuddering in disgust at the slime around him at the murky bottom, only to discover that he had chosen a defective reed, one that appeared blocked. He had been forced to sit up and pick another, and his sergeant had been less than impressed. "You've messed up again, Almeida!" he had howled, his face so furious that Tony refrained from reminding him that he had not in fact missed a step all day. "You mess with me, I'll mess with you! Now get back inside!" He had managed to conceal himself the second time, though it hadn't saved him from scrubbing the kitchen floor that evening._

The water moved all around him and he froze, not daring to move a muscle. _Careful Almeida, they're here in the river, searching for you, quite a few of them judging by the amount of mud they're stirring up. Scrubbing the kitchen floor with a nailbrush was child's play compared to what they'll do to you if they catch you. You are after all wanted for murder as well as everything else._

Tony pressed his eyes shut to prevent them being filled with mud and listened carefully, feeling the water wash against him. Dogs barked in the distance and men swore as they moved past him. _Easy, they're going. Just stay put for a coupla minutes. You're doing great. _He felt another few waves rock him as boots walked past mere feet away, stirring up the riverbed, waking something that had lain a few feet further down. A soft slime moved against his foot, a water weed, he hoped, learning seconds later that it was nothing of the kind. Tony breathed a little harder through his reed, the only indication of the pain of a dozen leeches latching onto his feet and drawing first blood.

'We're wasting our time. Almeida's not here,' stated a voice on the shore, opposite him.

_That's right, I'm not! Please go._

'So where did he leave the river? The dogs failed to pick up any scent. He's here, alright.'

'Is he? I don't see anyone, do you? We don't even know which way he went. Let the helicopter keep searching, let's go.'

'Ok, listen up. River opens wider a kilometer further down, he's probably there. Search it. And there's a backwater just nearby, I want two of you down it with a few dogs. The rest of you keep searching the river. He's here somewhere and everyone, be careful. He just shot three Americans in cold blood. He's got military training, he's been to war, he'll kill you within seconds if you miss him. Don't attempt to capture him. Remember the American's order? I want to hear it.'

'Shoot to kill,' echoed dozens of voices.

'Sí, so do so. They want a body by tonight, their plane is waiting.'


	16. Railroad To Los Mochis

A full moon shone onto the river, illuminating a dark haired man dressed in a green t-shirt and boxer shorts. Tony released the final leech from his leg forcefully, throwing it back into the river with a curse. His patience had waned after a couple of hours absorbed in the same painful task, interrupted only by futile slapping at swarms of mosquitoes. He rose irritably, reaching for his damp jeans from the branch he'd hung them on once his pursuers had left. With a sigh he pulled them on, wishing they had dried but knowing he hung them up too late. Well, they would dry on him then as he moved on. A barely audible hum reached his ears and he rushed onto the road in a hurry, clouds of mosquitoes in hot pursuit.

The beauty of the surroundings lost on him, he hurried along the road, determined to reach Chihuahua and conceal himself in a train moving west, aware of the need to lose the mole temporarily while leaving a traceable lead. He was beginning to get tired, but fear lent his body the strength necessary to keep moving.

It was almost dawn before he came upon the first houses on the outskirts of town. All was silent as he crept past them, wishing he had his sombrero. The first person to come across him would not fail to recognize him as he was, and he needed at least another hour to reach the railway station. A door opened and an old man stepped out dressed in work clothes, passing him without a glance. Tony quickened his pace, hearing voices from within several of the dwellings he passed. Two children sat on a fence laughing together and a delicious smell of coffee wafted over to him from within the house. Tony swallowed, aware it was breakfast time_. Forget it, Almeida, you're not getting any! You got a train to catch and you'd better find yourself a hat rather quickly if you even want a hope of reaching the station! _

Tony reached the end of the street and turned right, heading deeper into the heart of the city. Sudden noise reached his ears, he stiffened. People were working nearby, drilling in the road. As they had already seen him he decided it would arouse more suspicion if he turned away than if he continued walking towards them. He moved rapidly, eyes lowered, breathing easier once he passed them.

Despite the early hour the station was crowded with an odd assortment of passengers. Tony examined the motley crowd, noting well dressed people with plenty of luggage and a handful of out-of-season American tourists as well as barefoot slum dwellers, peasants from tiny villages and crowds of children. He moved among them, his head turned to the angle of the security cameras. The notice board showed the imminent departure of two trains, one westward bound to Los Mochis and the other heading south to Mexico City. He had half an hour to kill and from the lack of attention paid him, he worried whether the mole would even notice his arrival.

Tony moved over to a bench and withdrew the cell phone he had collected from one of the dead agents. Chewing his lip he took a deep breath and called Michelle's cell_. Come on honey, pick up. I haven't got long._ It was answered by an anxious 'Dessler' after the fifth ring. He breathed easier. 'Sweetheart, it's' me.'

'Tony, where are you?' she whispered softly. 'Are you ok?'

'I'm fine,' he answered characteristically. 'Jack got to me just as Miller was about to blow me into the next world. Honey, you sound exhausted. I'm guessing you know all about my capture and escape. I need you to relax now and get some sleep.'

'What about you?' she questioned, treasuring his familiar voice.

'I need to draw him after me. Jack thinks a deserted spot would be most ideal. I'm heading into the Sierra Madre, it's a massive mountain range filled with canyons. It should be easy to monitor anyone coming after me there.'

'Should be,' she answered unhappily. 'Tony, I miss you.'

'I know honey, I do too. I know you must be mad at me right now, but you'll understand why I did what I did when I get back and explain.' His fingers tightened round the phone as he waited anxiously for her response.

'I am mad, Tony. I'm MAD you took it upon yourself to find our worst traitor alone. I'm mad you didn't allow me to help you and I'm REAL MAD at Hammond for refusing to listen to you. I saw the footage of your interrogation.' Her voice broke and Tony stared at the phone shocked.

'Sweetheart, you shouldn't have done that. He was unreasonable but he was only doing his job. It's his way and right now, without my old position at CTU, this is mine. I'm fine now.' A train whistled loudly and he covered his ear. 'Can you hear me, Michelle? This battery is running low; I won't be able to talk much longer. I wanted you to know that I love you more than anythin' in the world and after I've helped capture this mole I'll come back. Even if they arrest me for hacking.' His voice broke over the final sentence. 'I need to see you, even if it's only for an hour a month behind solid glass. I miss you so much, sweetheart.' The phone gave an annoying beep. 'It's runnin' out now,' he finished. 'Honey, you gotta promise me something.'

'Sure,' she agreed, wiping her eyes. 'I'll let your parents know you're fine.'

'Thanks sweetheart, but I had somethin' else in mind. Things are gonna be happening real fast in the next few days, and I want you to stay out of it. Just go to work as usual and don't try to discover anything.'

'How can you ask me that? You think I'll sit by and…'

'You must. I need to know you're safe if I'm to focus on this task.' He stared at the beeping phone. 'Promise me now, honey.'

'I promise,' she said, having no intention of keeping her word.

'Ok, remember that. Close your eyes, sweetheart. I'm giving you a real deep kiss….' The connection cut out and Tony glared at the phone in pure hatred. 'Dammit. I needed another minute! She sure didn't sound as though she meant to keep her promise!' He rubbed his face in frustration.

An announcement interrupted his brooding. The public were warned there was an inbound train on the third track and that it would be departing shortly for Mexico City. Relatives of passengers were asked not to board the train. There was a general stirring. People reached for suitcases and children. Tony boarded a blue diesel train for Los Mochis on the second platform, heart hammering. It was risky, though only one policeman patrolled the area. He doubted whether the authorities would assume he had the audacity to catch in train in the center of the city. Still, he was a wanted fugitive without a ticket; he would need to conceal himself before a conductor approached him. Whilst it was imperative to allow the mole to locate him, it was necessary to allow Jack time to discover him.

He walked along to the back of the platform, ignoring the first class carriages reserved for tourists on the Canyon Tour and the second class coaches for the ordinary Mexican passengers. Tony entered the final compartment; full to overflowing with what he noticed instantly were villagers. He settled on the floor behind the last row of seats, pushing a few bags aside and settling among odds and ends, resting his head against the hard side of the train. Nobody paid him the least attention, busy sorting themselves out for the long journey ahead. Mothers handed tired children pieces of bread or tortillas, old people talked or grumbled and he rested his head in his hands, watching the crowd through a few cracks in his fingers. A toddler dropped her tortilla, ignoring it as she bounced on her seat. Unnoticeably his fingers closed around it and he ate hungrily, hoping he wouldn't get too sick. The floor was not only dirty, it was filthy. A smile crept across his face as he imagined his mother's horror if she were able to see him, remembering her preoccupation with hygiene.

"_Tony, what are you eating?" she exclaimed, the horror in her voice clear after nearly forty years. She laid the baby in the carrycot and pulled a sticky lollipop from his mouth. "Where did you get it from?" He pointed to the floor proudly. "How can you even think of putting something in your mouth that was on the floor?" she cried. "You don't even know whose it was! It's full of germs." The offending candy was laid on the other side of the seat and she picked up the whining baby. Tony bounced up and down, watching the passengers getting on and off the bus, his eye on the lollipop. The moment his mother bent down to pick up the baby's rattle he reached for it, taking care to keep his back to her. It wasn't really dirty, after all, the dirt had already come off in his mouth, and who cared whose it was? They obviously didn't want it any more, and he did! A sharp smack on his hand from his indignant mother taught him the importance of considering the mysterious 'germs.'_

A jolt ran through him, and the ground shook as the train pulled out of the station. It rattled slowly along the tracks, gathering speed. Tony closed his eyes, convinced none of the villagers had recognized his picture in the police station, aware they would avoid the place like the plague. He was safe enough momentarily, as long as he received advanced warning of the approach of the conductor. Something told him he was not the only passenger who would seek to avoid such a confrontation.

* * *

'Dammit, Brad, are you listening to me?' Jack demanded. 'I'm telling you Tony was innocent, he didn't shoot anyone! Four agents tried to kill him; I shot three of them as they attempted to kill me. The third got away. You need to discover who sent Miller; he was in charge of the rogue agents.'

'And just how am I supposed to do that, Jack,' Hammond demanded sarcastically. 'You want me to question a dead man? He might not wish to divulge anymore information!' He tapped impatiently on his desk. 'I sent you down to Mexico to locate Almeida and catch the mole. Instead what do I have? You protected Almeida, which was never on the agenda, and you failed to procure the identity of the mole. Your prints are all over the gun that shot three agents, you've got questions to answer and you'd better prove your innocence, or you'll find yourself sharing a cell with Almeida!'

'Now Brad, you know I'm telling you the truth,' Jack protested. 'When did I ever shoot our agents?'

'I don't know anything, Jack! You'll have to come back and explain it to me! As for when did you disobey direct orders, well, do you really want to go into that? Now where the hell is Almeida, I need to send someone else after him.'

'With all due respect, sir, he didn't tell me,' Jack answered. 'Let me get this bullet from my arm, and I'll go after him. Brad, you know Tony.'

'Unfortunately I do,' Hammond interrupted, highly irritated.

'And he won't show himself to anyone he doesn't trust. I promised him I'd help him out in a coupla days and…'

'And that's a promise you won't keep,' Hammond stated, his voice brooking no argument. 'You're coming home tonight, Jack.'

'Brad, I can't. Tony's life is in danger. I'm confident the mole himself will come to track him down after this bungled affair.'

'Possible, but highly unlikely. In any case, the moment anyone of importance in Division leaves for Mexico and Almeida's body is returned we've got our man. You're no longer needed.'

Jack drew a deep breath, resisting the urge to shout with difficulty. 'Brad, Mr. Hodgeson ordered you to protect Tony. If you pull me out now, he's alone.'

'Protecting Almeida was never the main issue,' Hammond answered mercilessly.

'Sir, I understand how you feel about him, especially in regard to his taking you hostage, but he deserves…'

'To go back to jail. And he will, should he return alive. And if you're not on this flight tonight, Jack, you'll join him. Have I made myself absolutely clear?'

'Yes sir,' Jack muttered, laying his head against the pillow and glaring at his bullet wound.

His door opened noiselessly. Jack sat up, relaxing at the sight of Miguel Alvarez, who appeared a little uneasy. 'Jack? What the hell happened?' he demanded. 'They're saying you shot three agents, and Tony shot another three.'

Jack shook his head. 'Tony didn't shoot anyone. Our rogue agent shot them, and had Tony shackled to a tree. I shot his would-be executioner and two others, the fourth man escaped. Damn it Miguel, I still don't know who sent those guys.'

Miguel let out an impatient breath. 'Jack, the Americans from District are pinning the shooting of the first three agents on Tony. The gun that was used for the killings is gone, I presume he took it.'

Jack nodded. 'Yeah, he needed something.'

'True, but his innocence can't be established. My people are now hunting for him just as determinedly as yours, and can you guess what the mandate is concerning him? You won't like it.'

Jack frowned, staring at the Mexican.

'Shoot to kill,' Miguel said softly. 'That's a direct order and our people will obey it.'

'If only I could discover who sent that order,' Jack sighed. 'Could you check any intercepted phone calls, Miguel, especially those calling District from here?'

The Mexican rose from his chair, pacing the room greatly agitated. 'Jack, what makes you think my government intercepts calls from foreign intelligence… Oh, ok. I'll see what we got, but right now my hands are a little tied, and they'll be tied literally soon enough. My boss wants to know what I'm doing in the state of Chihuahua, why I called you and held up Almeida's departure. I'll call a few people to see about the phone calls, but I won't be able to do anymore.' He looked at Jack in despair.

'I'm sorry,' Jack told him. 'None of this was your affair, but you've been a good friend to Tony. We'll put in a good word.'

'Where from, Jack - jail? No more words, please.'

Jack watched him leave the room, wondering how things had deteriorated so rapidly.

* * *

Tony woke suddenly as someone tripped over his legs. 'The conductor!' 'The conductor's coming!' Several people shuffled around, the majority hunting for tickets while a few headed determinedly for the back of the coach. Someone pulled a door open and climbed out, hanging onto it and taking a perilous leap towards a hook at the back of the carriage, followed by a few others. Tony pulled himself up and climbed after them, his hair blown back by hot air rushing past at a furious pace. He made the jump to the hook successfully, hanging onto it as someone reached down and helped him onto the roof.

'Gracias,' he gasped, lying flat on his stomach, breathing deeply.

'Of course. These tickets keep going up, who can afford them anymore?'

'Not me,' Tony answered honestly, wishing he had something to hang onto. No one spoke as they lay flat on the roof, unable to have heard each other over the rattling of the train. What seemed like hours later but in reality could not have been longer than fifteen minutes; someone opened the door and yelled that the conductor had departed. Tony offered up a silent prayer and slid backwards, his feet struggling to find the small metal hook. He lowered himself and crouched there a moment, unable to resist looking below at the tracks rushing past a few feet from him. His head swum with dizziness and he held on tighter, ordering himself to move. Carefully he let go of the hook with a hand and reached for the door, gripping the frame before swinging himself over. Hands pulled him inside the carriage and he moved aside, allowing the rest of the men to return. _Oh God, please don't let this conductor come here too often!_

Everyone settled down as though no interruption had occurred, loud conversations floating all around him. Tony lay back, resting his head against someone's bag, a plastic shopping bag low over his eyes. The temperature rose in the carriage and all the windows were pushed open. He nodded off again, waking suddenly as the regular rhythm of the train changed. They were slowing. He pulled the hat up and stared at the passengers, a few of them reaching for bags. His heart beat faster once the train drew to a stop, but the sight that met his eyes reassured him. They were in a small station with a single platform. An overweight station master strode around with a flag in his hand. About ten minutes after their arrival they pulled out, amid loud shouting of goodbyes by milling relatives.

_And now I guess the conductor will come again!_

Tony moved when several passengers began fidgeting, scrambling outside with a handful of poorer dressed men. The same man who had given him a hand a few hours ago pulled him up again, patiently lying flat on the moving train. His very passivity caused Tony to wonder how frequently he traveled this way. Warm sun beat down on him as they raced along the track. The landscape began to change, the train slowing as it entered steeper gradients.

He slid off a slowing train just minutes before they reached a small station in the mountains, by no means the only passenger who had disembarked that way. The embankment was fairly shallow and he landed on hands and knees.

Tony saw the steeples of Divisadero in the distance and he purposefully turned his back, heading in the opposite direction. The lower slopes and valley were bound to be more heavily populated; he took the deserted paths that led upwards into the Sierra Madre towards the vast canyons, passing several small dwellings. They petered away as he moved upwards, pulling his sweater on, glad he had remembered to ask for it back in the police station.

A cooler wind began to blow towards dawn, and Tony stopped, admiring a breathtaking view. The last dwellings had been situated several miles down the road, and the deserted area showed no sign of human presence. Steep cliffs surrounded a secluded valley, tiny but graced by a brook which gurgled along the center of the plain. The vegetation was edible if not appetizing, and there was no sign of any track leading downwards. Higher mountain peaks rose in the distance, cutting off human movement from any direction save one. As the river no longer ran that way it was bound to remain secluded from the most enthusiastic canyon viewing tourists and locals alike. The place was about as quiet as he could hope to find, and it would be possible to hole up and wait for Jack. As the sun rose higher he began his descent into the valley, taking care to pick less exposed rocks, having little desire to break his neck. Really, had he known where he would end up, he would have taken a little more interest in mountain climbing! If his mother could see him now, she would faint!

His fingers' grip weakened on the outcrop he hung onto, coming loose with armfuls of broken rock in each fist. Tony flailed in vain as he slipped and fell, landing twenty feet below. He moved slowly, examining himself for any injuries. Thankfully he appeared fine, though an ankle refused to take his weight when he attempted to rise. The pain caused him to sink back onto the ground grimacing. 'Dammit,' he swore, wondering how he would manage to find shelter. After a few minutes spent contemplating his ill luck, Tony rose and found a stick, made a splint for his leg, and set off slowly, searching for a sheltered outcrop. A few minutes after he began his exploration he found a hole in the cliff side, dry and reasonably flat.

_Cheer up, Almeida! Things could be worse; you could be in prison on death row! Here you are in a nice quiet canyon instead, plenty of fresh water, lots of plants to eat, as much fresh air as you can desire, and a snug hole as your new home. There's no reason to put your head in your hands and groan aloud, you should be ashamed of yourself! That ankle's not broken, it's only sprained, it will be fine in a coupla days, and Jack will find the mole by then and you'll get to go home!_ He prayed that everything was indeed so, not at all certain about his diagnosis of his ankle.

It was humid in the valley. Tony removed his jeans and sweater and picked a few plants which he rinsed in the brook, chewing them slowly. At this stage he would have eaten just about anything, he was ravenous. He wondered whether the mole would ever be apprehended and he would be permitted to return home. A drop of rain on his neck pulled him abruptly back to the present. _That's weird, it's not supposed to rain here at this time of year! _Another few drops fell while he collected an extra plant, before the heavens opened. He hobbled over to his overhanging rock drenched, huddling close to the back of the cliff, bewildered by the heavy rain. Moments after he arrived a flash blinded him, followed almost instantly by a loud clap of thunder. He could have sworn the cliff behind him shook.

Tony spent a dismal hour leaning against the cliff in a vain attempt to shelter from the torrent. The lightening circled the same mountain peaks, striking trees far above the cliff while he watched, awe-struck. He removed his soaked clothes once the storm passed and hung them over a few low bushes to dry, taking the opportunity to wash in the brook. Refreshed, he rubbed himself with the damp sweater and found a clean rock in the sun to stretch out.

_Take a break, Almeida, you're exhausted. Tomorrow you'll need to find a little better shelter and check out escape routes just in case. You won't be left alone for too long_. He hoped Jack had recovered enough to find a few programmers to check Miller's last assignment. The thought of spending weeks alone in the valley with nothing better to eat than the same plants filled him with dismay.


	17. In The Sierra Madre

Tony pursed his lips together, his eyes fixed on the dark hole in the cliff face. It appeared to be a cave from where he stood, but he would be no wiser without climbing up to take a better look. His painful ankle served as an incentive to remain in his overhang another night, though his brain told him he had a find a more permanent shelter. Taking a deep breath he negotiated a few large rocks, pulling himself up by his hands before he reached the ledge directly in front of the hole. Praying that it was indeed a cave, he crawled forwards, breathing a sigh of relief.

It was quite large inside once he crawled through the opening, almost high enough for him to stand. Dim light filtered in from the mouth, and he had an excellent view of the entire valley without revealing his presence. It would have to suffice as his new shelter in lieu of anything more suitable, he decided. His ankle would have to improve within the next few days and then he would have little difficulty entering and leaving his hideout.

Dark clouds rolled over the distant mountains and Tony sat on the floor, watching the approaching storm. It could rain all it wanted to now, he had shelter! He also had a little food with him. Heavy rain poured down, reducing visibility to a couple of feet. He stretched his ankle on the floor and rolled his shirt under it, elevating it. There was no chance of it being a simple sprain; it would have begun to heal. The rain increased, drowning out all other sound, though he doubted whether there were any at the moment. The birds and small rodents he had seen in the valley were most likely sheltering too, only the dozens of frogs likely to enjoy the deluge. His eyes shut momentarily and he smiled, remembering the excitement of pulling on a raincoat on his way to school.

"_Tony, hurry up," his father called impatiently. "I'm taking you to school today; I know Mama won't! It's raining!"_

_Tony appeared, buttoning up his raincoat. "Mom doesn't like the babies getting wet," he explained, allowing his father to tie his hood._

"_Telling me," his father muttered. "Your mom doesn't like getting herself wet either! Now let's hurry, and don't even think of jumping in any puddles!"_

"_I like the rain," he told his father cheerfully, grinning at his miserable expression. "Don't forget to buy the bread, remember?"_

_His father nodded, dashing into the bakery, fully expecting him to follow, and he would have, had he failed to notice the largest, most inviting puddle along the entire route…_

_Well, Almeida, there'll be plenty of puddles round here after this!_ After a while he curled up deeper inside the cave and closed his eyes, settling down for a nap. There was no chance of anyone creeping up on him unannounced in this weather. _Come on Jack, it's been four days. I kinda expected you'd be here by now._

* * *

'He was seen on the train,' Hodgeson told Jack as they finished their drinks at the bar. 'That puts him in rather mountainous terrain, where it will require a major effort to locate him. Why do you imagine he would choose such a spot? I thought you told him to be traceable?'

Jack nodded, his hands clasping his now empty beer glass. 'Yes sir, I did. We need the mole to reveal himself, right? Well, hunting for Tony is going to require trackers and dogs and lots of money in the Sierra Madre, so we'll certainly be able to watch how it's progressing. He'll be one step ahead of them over there. Trust me sir, he'll go to ground if he fails to see anyone of importance. I advised him to try a lonely spot.'

Hodgeson failed to look satisfied. 'This whole plan could easily backfire, Jack! What if the mole does catch up with Almeida first and kills him? We got no security cameras over there, nothing we could pull.'

'Sir, Tony's more than capable of defending himself,' Jack argued. 'He knows what's at stake here. I need to get back to Mexico and find him, especially now that the mole knows where he was heading. It's imperative he have back-up.'

Hodgeson nodded reluctantly. 'Don't mess this up, Jack. Hammond's pissed off with you as it is. Just what makes you think you'll find Almeida in the wild?'

Jack's hands tightened round the glass and he gazed at the froth remaining on the bottom. 'I'll find him, sir. And if I don't, I can always shadow the mole's agents.'

'This has gone on long enough,' Hodgeson told him, getting up. 'Find Almeida and offer him back-up when the mole arrives to capture him. Assemble a team in complete secrecy, you'll need them. He already proved he has no compunction taking other agents' lives. This won't end well.'

* * *

The sun set behind the clouds, which were so thick they failed to turn red. Tony chewed the final plant he had carried up with him and feasted his eyes on the scenery, listening to the drops of water falling off sodden plants. He wore all his clothes on top of each other, noting the evening's chill through them. It would have been easier if he had a book to help pass the time, he thought, turning to crawl through the small opening.

Inside the cave it was now pitch dark. He lay on the hard ground with a small sigh, unable to help wondering how much longer he would be forced to spend there. Around this time of the evening he would have a long hot shower, pull on fresh clothes and flop onto the couch, switching on the TV. He watched something most nights, apart from the miserable time he had spent incarcerated. Tony rolled onto his side, forcibly removing all thoughts of prison. If only he had a blanket or a sleeping bag he would feel so much more comfortable, he thought regretfully.

The sun rose, evaporating all the rain and dew. Tony crawled out of his cave, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, knowing he would have to negotiate the steep climb downhill to get water and food. 'If the green plants he ate could be termed "food"' he thought, steeling himself for the descent. His ankle was so badly swollen he could barely make out the bone. He grimaced, deciding not to spend further time examining it until he reached the brook, where he would immerse it in icy water. It would remove a little of the swelling, but that would return the moment he withdrew his foot. He pulled the rifle closer to him, took a final look around and felt his way down, using the familiar footholds.

Tony removed his clothes and stepped into the water reluctantly, grimacing as his feet went numb. He wondered yet again where such cold water could originate from, concluding it was from the depths of the earth. Shivering, he sat down in the deepest spot which barely covered his knees and cupped his hands, pouring water over himself. _First thing I'll do once I get home is fill the bath with steaming hot water and sit in it, just like Michelle does after a real stressful day. Pretend you're in the hot bath now, Almeida, you'll feel better_. Tony was unable to do so however and soon hobbled out of the brook, rubbing the water off himself.

He settled on the grey rock, unable to stand on one leg long enough to allow the sun to dry him. The thought of a mole prepared to send undercover agents to their deaths searching for him prevented him from relaxing in the peaceful surroundings. Once he was dry he pulled his clothes on again, resolved to wash them the moment the weather improved. He had nothing to change into, after all! Shutting his eyes he allowed himself to daydream, picturing his family round him on a picnic.

"_Tony, open that basket and hand out the food, would you?"_

"_Sure mom." He swallowed involuntarily, imagining a basket full of delicious sandwiches._

"_Sweetheart, have a little more salad. It's good for you." 'Would you get beyond the food, Almeida!' he muttered sternly to himself, his stomach rumbling. 'Ok, picnic's over, the stuff has been replaced in the basket! Now it's time to go for a walk!' He pictured them wandering along the brook, his nephews and nieces too close to the edge. "Sweetie, be careful, you'll fall in like that, and the water's not real warm!" _He shivered, pulling his sweater closer round himself.

'There he is.' Tony stirred, shocked into full alertness. That voice was cold and hard, devoid of warmth. His head turned rapidly and he searched the surrounding cliffs, checking the source of the sound, all the while pulling himself up. His sharp eyes spotted men camouflaged in green struggling down the cliff from the direction he had entered the valley. He turned rapidly, noticing more descending from the opposite direction. Tony made his way over to the cliff as fast as he could hobble and paused, hidden behind a bush, considering the latest developments. Jack had asked him to leave a trail, to move to an out of the way location, and to allow himself to be recaptured if the mole was with the group, promising to be there with his own team to take the mole out. That Tony's life was not guaranteed hadn't needed to be mentioned. Well, he would play his part and help end what he had started, as long as the mole was indeed there. Parting the branches he examined the area again, counting ten armed men in the valley.

They stood in a tight circle, obviously receiving orders. Tony strained his eyes, attempting to make out the face of their leader, unable to catch a glimpse of him as he was blocked from his view. Once the men moved he was able to study his pursuer. A medium sized men stood by the brook, thinning grey hair, high forehead. _I was right; it was for the former naval guy. He's come to kill me. I hope you're real close, Jack! Coz it's not gonna take much skill finding me here in the valley and I can't get back to the cave_. He cursed himself for his previous lapse of attention. Now he was exposed and was certain to be recaptured and so far there was no sign of Jack's presence.

It took half an hour before the first teams located him. Tony watched the search with a sinking heart, noting their steady approach and unable to conceal himself elsewhere. It was obvious the men were professionals. He slid the rifle deeper into the bush, aware it would be removed from him the moment he was discovered as he was unprepared to fire on innocent agents. This way if Jack failed to show he could attempt to flee and might find it useful. Tony offered up a silent prayer for help as he buried the rifle, hoping he would live long enough to find a use for it.

'Hands on your head! Come out real slow,' ordered the first man to come across him, his finger on the trigger, his rifle aimed at his head. Tony moved his hands slowly to avoid startling them and placed them on his head, moving forward as instructed. 'On your knees!' hissed the agent, his rifle never wavering from its target. Breathing deeply, Tony knelt down, a deep sense of dread filling his stomach. There was still no sight of Jack and the mole had noticed him, striding towards them. He moved a hand instinctively to rub his face, replacing it the instant the bolt was drawn back. The second agent moved behind him and placed cuffs on his wrists.

'We got him, Mr. Thomas. He's secured,' the second agent reported.

Assistant Regional Director Thomas approached Tony wearily, gun in hand. 'Tony Almeida, you're under arrest for treason. Try anything at all, I'll shoot you here myself.' He gazed at Tony, who was unable to read anything in the man's eyes. 'Lie down on the ground. Keep your hands on your head!'

Tony slid forwards, unable to use his hands to lower himself softly. He chewed his lip, wondering whether he would be shot on the spot for 'attempting to escape', but it appeared there were too many witnesses for Thomas to feel secure doing so. He turned his head sideways to enable him to breathe a little easier, watching their feet as they circled him.

'Face the ground,' Thomas snapped, poking his shoulder with his rifle and Tony turned his face into the dirt, resting his forehead on the cold rock_. Come on Jack, now would be a good time!_

Thomas pulled out his two way radio and spoke into it, ordering a chopper to land in the valley, giving the exact coordinates. Tony remained face down, struggling to stay calm, aware that the moment he would be bundled into the chopper his life would be over. Imperceptibly he moved his head, resting his chin on the ground, searching the cliffs directly opposite him without success. They remained empty of the sight of his friend.

_Are you aware it's Thomas who came, Jack? He's gonna kill me now, so you better be. And what if you're not? You'll be back to square one with a traitor in the highest levels of security, one who's prepared to see ships blown up and undercover agents exposed. He'll kill again, and compromise us…_Tony shut his eyes, struggling with the only decision he could take_. I got to draw this out a little longer, give you more time to arrive. What the hell, Almeida, your life's over anyway._

He remained motionless while they surrounded him, cursing the location and the difficulties associated with the hunt. A boot impacted sharply with his ribs and he was unable to suppress a cough in response. 'Easy, Endly. He'll get what's coming to him at his trial,' Thomas said, rebuking the over enthusiastic agent. He circled Tony, examining him critically. 'Looks like he already busted his ankle. Hardly much of a marine.' Tony's cheeks flushed and he struggled to remain silent.

_Come on Jack. I can't give you more than another minute. Where the hell are you?_

A faint buzz reached his ears and his heart sank. His estimate of a remaining minute had proved overly optimistic. Once again he raked the cliffs with his eyes, seeing nothing. He would have to run for it, only his chances of success were low with his broken ankle and hands cuffed behind him. Hardly worth a shot really, but he had to take it.

He stirred restlessly, rolling onto his side. 'I need to go get my notes first,' he argued. 'They'll prove my innocence. I never sold any intel…'

Thomas's eyes bore into his. 'You have papers?' he demanded. 'What type of papers?' Tony detected a faint note of anxiety in his voice.

'Copies of what I discovered when I hacked in,' he lied, his face blank. 'I can prove I am guilty of nothing more than hacking, sir, but I'll need to get them.' _Come on, you bastard, take the bait!_

'We haven't got the time for that, Almeida!' Thomas answered, his voice dripping with hostility. 'Tell me where they are and I'll find them.'

_So you're getting worried? Good_. 'Sir, I hid them so well I couldn't explain if I tried. I'll have to go myself,' Tony insisted. 'You've got to let me fetch them. It's a piece of evidence I'll present at my trial, you guys got plenty of your own. It's my right.'

Thomas nodded his permission. 'Very well, Almeida, I'm a fair man! You have every right to present your side of things at your trial. Let's go find these papers. You'd better not be lying to me!'

'No sir,' Tony agreed, struggling to his knees. One of the agents pulled him up roughly by his shoulder. 'I'll need the use of my arms, sir, I need them for the stick,' Tony explained, pointing at the stick he had used as a support for his leg. 'I can't walk without it.'

Thomas nodded again and one of his wrists was freed, the cuff locked around Thomas's wrist. 'Alright Almeida, you may use your stick. Don't even think of getting away from me!' He beckoned an agent to accompany them. 'Lead the way.'

Tony led them further along the brook, towards the end of the valley, where the water deepened and the flood plain turned the area into a swamp. It was the only spot in the entire valley where he had a slight chance of refuge should he succeed in fleeing custody, though his chances appeared dim shackled to Thomas.

'Where the hell are they?' questioned the suspicious director, glaring at Tony. 'I'm beginning to doubt their existence, Almeida. Just what do you imagine you're playing at here?' He glared at Tony.

'They're over by that tree,' Tony answered without batting an eyelid, leading the way unhesitatingly into the icy water.

'Wait,' Thomas ordered, his eyes on the mud that covered Tony's knees. 'You aware you could sink here? It's a bog! I'm gonna release you and wait for you to collect those copies, but I'm warning you, Almeida, my finger's on the trigger. Any attempt to escape, you'll be mowed down.' He unlocked the cuff and cuffed Tony's wrists in front of him.

'Yes sir,' Tony agreed, unable to believe his unexpected luck. Why in the world had Thomas released him? The man was perfectly aware he would attempt to flee and pass his name over.

He waded over the swamp, sinking waist deep in a few spots, wondering whether Thomas's worries were sound. He might well find himself sucked under, and dismal as his situation was, the thought of it terrified him. Wiping the sweat from his face he climbed onto the small island that contained an old tree, whose branches overhung in every direction. _Game's up, Almeida! Thomas is gonna shoot you in a coupla minutes_. He rubbed his face, considering his options, seeing diving into the bog as his only chance.

A loud roaring distracted him and he turned, watching the helicopter land. Once it was on the ground the door opened and three men jumped out, hurrying over to Thomas who waved to them with a puzzled expression.

'Lachlan, what are you doing out here? I can handle Almeida myself!'

Tony stood under the tree, rooted to the spot as Assistant Director Lachlan approached the group and nodded cordially at them. 'Just received news of another agent captured. Seems Almeida compromised more than we thought. I'll need to question him right here. Why don't you head back to the plane, I'll be with you shortly?'

Thomas shrugged. 'As long as you're up with the latest news. I've spent the last two days questioning semi literate peasants and hiking through these rain sodden mountains. Make sure he doesn't get away, he's got a habit of it.'

'He won't get away from me,' Lachlan assured his colleague, his tone chilly. 'Almeida, we need to discuss something. I'll give you exactly a minute to get back here.'

'He's after some papers,' Thomas told him, heading back to the helicopter.

'Now we both know there aren't any papers, so quit the bullshit,' Lachlan snapped. 'You're surrounded. One false move, we'll mow you down.'

Tony stared at the disappearing Thomas, shocked to see him climb into the helicopter with his team. The blades whirled faster and it took off, leaving him alone with Lachlan and three armed men.

'Move it,' Lachlan ordered, firing a shot into the air.

_Oh God, it's him! You narrowed the mole down to two guys and you chose the wrong one! _"We both know there aren't any papers…" Tony swallowed, glancing in despair at the deserted cliffs, before a flash caught his eye. Shots rang out from two directions simultaneously, hitting him in the back and stomach. He crumpled forwards, eyes wide open with pain, sliding into the deepest hole in the wetland.


	18. The Rescue

'He's dead, sir,' yelled the agent sent in to retrieve him, tugging at his body in vain. Tony held his breath, anchoring his good leg firmly round a tough water weed.

'You sure about that?' Lachlan called, his voice rising and falling oddly in the darkness.

'Yeah,' the agent shouted, tugging at his arm. 'Bastard's stuck under the mud. You want me to pull him out?'

Lachlan appeared to consider the question for a moment before he shook his head. 'No, leave him. He was after all attempting to escape after he killed Daniels. The next team can collect the bodies. Let's go.'

The agent holding him released him without warning and Tony sank back into the mud, submerging completely. His injured lungs screamed for air and it took all his self discipline to force himself to remain still. Once he could no longer bear the pain he allowed his mouth to reach the surface, breathing in great gulps of air. He was only able to focus on his surroundings once his heart had slowed.

The helicopter rose above the valley, leaving silence behind it. Tony forced himself to move, pulling himself forward at a snail's pace, determined to check his fresh bullet holes and attempt to stop the bleeding. Blood trailed after him all the way along the bank to the clearer part of the stream. He lacked the strength to do more than sink into it, watching detached as the water surrounding him turned crimson. _You're dying, Almeida_.

Once again his eyes roamed the cliffs, coming up blank. Jack had not yet arrived, and it was imperative he do so, or the spy would remain undetected. His cuffs made it impossible to remove his clothes, forcing him to raise them instead to examine the bullet wounds. The one in his back appeared to have done but minor damage, the bleeding already slowing, as opposed to the one in his stomach, which bled as heavily as before. The bullet appeared to be inside, too deep for his probing hands to feel. Tony pressed the t-shirt into it and considered his options. It was vital to let Jack know the name of the mole and he doubted whether he would last the hour. Without pen or paper he was indeed stuck. Slowly his eyes focused on the bush he had been discovered under and he set off towards it, crawling forwards on hands and knees. What seemed an eternity later but was more like ten minutes, he reached it, fixing his eyes on the cliff face behind it. It was dry, unaffected by the previous rainstorms. Tony slipped his hand under his t-shirt and placed his fingers in the sticky blood. "Lachlan" he wrote on the back wall, struggling to remain conscious.

Another buzzing sounded, low on approach. Tony leaned against the shrub, unable to steady himself. He had a terrible feeling it was Lachlan returning for something. _Move, Almeida, hide somewhere quick! Jack won't be long now. Just keep it together till he arrives._

He crawled along the floor, his eyes fixed on a small incline in the ground where he would be able to bury himself and remain undiscovered by any further agents sent by Lachlan. The ground swayed under him alarmingly as he inched forward and the world kept disappearing into blackness. He passed the incline where he had sheltered on his first night in the valley and reached the hole, no longer able to feel any satisfaction on his achievement. The hole lay halfway between the cliff and stream and with his final ounce of strength he pulled a few rocks and branches over the edge, locking himself inside, leaving a tiny gap above his eyes where he could look outside and spot Jack.

_Come on, Jack. I need to ask you to say goodbye to mom and Papa and to give you the letter I wrote Michelle in case I'd be killed on duty._ The world darkened again and Tony was unable to fight through it, giving in to the blackness.

* * *

Jack climbed out of the helicopter, pulling his binoculars on and examining every detail of his surroundings. 'Dammit, Tony, where are you?' he muttered. 'Thomas said you were in the valley.'

'There's no sign of anyone, sir,' an agent told him.

Jack nodded, having expected it. 'Spread out and conduct a search of the entire canyon. I want you to check every bush, every cave, every rock!' They dispersed and he pulled on the binoculars again.

'Sir, there's something you should see,' a young agent yelled a few minutes later and Jack hurried to join him, peering behind a stunted bush, barely large enough to shelter anyone from the sun. 'There's something written on the wall, and it looks pretty fresh to me.'

Jack stepped past him and paused, his years of exposure to violence failing to prevent a sharp stab in his heart. 'Lachlan,' he muttered, narrowing his eyes. He bent forward, examining the blood closer. 'What did you do?' he asked so silently no one heard him before he moved backwards, emerging into the sun.

'I want everyone to search for Tony Almeida. He's here and he's injured. Find him.' Jack looked round the valley quickly, noting his team begin their search before he returned to the helicopter. 'Patch me through to Director Hodgeson,' he ordered the pilot. The man nodded at him a minute later and he grabbed the radio. 'Sir, its Lachlan. Tony wrote his name for me.'

'Well done, Jack,' Hodgeson praised him, his voice crackling over the radio. 'I never expected both Thomas and Lachlan to go after Almeida. Bring him home and send him to me at Division.'

'Sir,' Jack cupped his hands over the speaker in the howling wind, 'I can't find Tony. He was shot and must have gone to ground.'

Silence greeted his words, the crackle of the radio his only indication the channel remained open. 'Keep searching.'

'Sir, that's just it,' Jack protested. 'Tony would've seen us by now and come out if he was able. There's a lot of blood, he's hurt pretty bad. It's imperative I get back-up to locate him immediately.'

The radio crackled by itself again and Jack fought the urge to yell into it. 'Mr. Hodgeson…'

'I can hear you,' Hodgeson snapped. 'I can't spare anyone at the moment. They're all shadowing Lachlan and Thomas. They're the primary targets, you're aware of that. I must make certain they're heading home. Do what you can, you'll find him.'

Jack gave in to his urge and raised his voice. 'Mr. Hodgeson, I won't just find him! Tony concealed himself to remain undiscovered should Lachlan send anyone else to make certain he was dead. I need someone who worked with him in the field, and I'll need them as soon as possible. There's a lot of blood.'

'There's no one,' Hodgeson replied, his tone indicating impatience. 'There's no point sending any more agents, if he's gone to ground you'd need someone familiar with him from the Marines. Just do what you can.' He laid down the phone, leaving Jack speechless.

Jack shook his head, his eyes searching the cliffs. 'We won't find you in time, Tony,' he muttered. As he spoke a wind whipped up, blowing through all of them. The agents with him huddled under the cliffs, glancing around uncertainly. Jack reached a decision and climbed into the helicopter, calling Michelle, begging her to find information on anyone Tony worked with in the Marines who was reachable. 'Come on, there has to be someone,' he said, glaring at the radio.

'Jack, the only one who spent any time on active duty with Tony was his sergeant who's in LA at the moment. They served together for eight years.' She forced her worry aside and waited for his reply.

'Good,' Jack told her, breathing a sigh of relief. 'Have him picked up and put him on Division's helicopter. I want him here right now.'

'Jack, who's authorizing the use of the chopper?' she questioned.

Jack took a deep breath. 'No one,' he admitted. 'We really need help Michelle, there's lots of blood. Get that sergeant here now.'

'I'll deal with it,' Michelle promised, opening Buchanan's files. Her head swam while she typed in his access code and ordered the chopper, hoping he would overlook her actions. "There's lots of blood…" Her heart ached as she worked. _Hang on a bit sweetheart; I'll be there real soon._

* * *

It was dark, and he was colder than he had ever been before. Only his fingers pressing his t-shirt into his stomach in a vain attempt to staunch the loss of blood were warm, and that meant he was still bleeding. Spray from the stream battered the rocks outside, a thin trickle of water running down a rock and dropping onto his face, which was what had probably brought him round. The howling wind outside drowned out all else. Tony resolved to push a rock aside and peer out just in case Jack had arrived, but his weakened body no longer obeyed him. His fingers remained by his side and nothing above a faint moan escaped. Telling himself off mercilessly he counted to three and rolled onto his side, a scream of agony escaping him as the bullet in his stomach moved. Fresh blood filled his hand and the world dimmed, returning him to the unyielding darkness.

* * *

'It's a direct order, sergeant,' the agent snapped; glaring at Koskinen who stood in the doorway, a bottle of vodka in his hand. 'You're to leave immediately and find Almeida.'

Koskinen scowled at the carpet, taking another sip.

'Did you hear me?' exclaimed the agent, highly irritated. 'The chopper's getting ready to leave.'

'I heard you,' Koskinen replied, making no move to leave the doorway. 'You expect me to locate the lieutenant in some mountains in the dark. I can't do that.'

'You're the only one who can,' the agent assured him. 'Let's go.'

'You'll have to arrest me, then,' Koskinen replied, finishing his drink. 'The lieutenant is a good man, worth a dozen of you! I will NOT hunt him down so you can drag him back in chains.' He turned his back on them, attempting to slam the door, but the agent moved faster.

'Nobody's going to bring him back in chains. He's been proven innocent, but he's been shot. He'll die, if you fail to find him.'

Koskinen stared at him unconvinced. 'And you're gonna prove that to me?'

'Yes, sure, I got papers from the assistant regional director…'

Koskinen shook his head. 'Don't mean much, to me. You gonna let me ride back with him? Otherwise I'll know you're lying!'

The agent nodded, glaring at him. 'Yes you can ride back with him; we won't leave you in Mexico! You always argue when you receive orders, sergeant?'

Koskinen pulled on his coat. 'Only if the immediate safety of my men is threatened,' he muttered, heading outside to the rain.

* * *

Jack watched the figures emerge from the CTU helicopter, Michelle jumping out first followed by a tall man covered in a coat, his hood tied under his chin. 'Jack Bauer,' he shouted above the noise of the ceaseless wind and the chopper's engines. 'You were Almeida's sergeant?'

Koskinen nodded, his eyes searching Jack's.

'I need you to remember every combat situation you were in together and find him,' Jack yelled. 'That's his blood over there; he's in a bad shape.'

Koskinen examined the blood. 'He hasn't got long,' he said, his face registering dismay. 'What the hell did you do to him?'

'He was shot by a rogue agent,' Jack told him. 'Find him now.'

Koskinen examined the dark cliffs with his torch, shining it both ways, searching every nook.

'We searched the area,' Jack assured him. 'There's a few caves, we found signs he used one, but he's not in them. We also searched the entire edge of the cliffs and the stream. That's where US forces wounded in battle would be trained to hide.'

Koskinen shook his head. 'He wouldn't. In this type of situation the lieutenant would find a spot in the middle of the floor where it was least likely to be searched and dig himself in. Start moving all loose rocks, every one of them.' He moved further away, his torch against the ground, kicking loose rocks aside. Jack heard him muttering words in a language he had never heard before, walking a distance away from the others.

'Come on, you heard him,' he told Michelle, pulling her away from the thick blood on the cliff face. 'We'll find him,' he assured her.

She nodded wordless, withdrawing her fingers from the message. Her face was drained of color as she pushed at the hundreds of rocks strewn along the floor, praying they'd locate him in time.

Half an hour later a rock Koskinen pulled aside revealed a slight opening. Encouraged, he moved the neighboring rock, flashing his torch into the cavity. He pushed his arm through, feeling something soft. Trembling with excitement he pulled the remaining rocks aside in haste, shining his torch onto Tony's face.

'Lieutenant Almeida, wake up,' he said quietly, his fingers on Tony's throat. 'You're alive, sir. Open your eyes. You're ok now.'

His voice penetrated the fog in which he hovered. Tony moved his arm, struggling to open his eyes, sure he was hallucinating. He could have sworn he had heard his sergeant calling his name, but that was wrong, he had left the Marines….

Jack's voice floated over to him next. 'Tony, open your eyes. Dammit, where's that medic? How is he?'

'Tony, are you ok? Sweetheart, you're hurt. Oh God, you're still in cuffs.'

The medic pushed all of them aside and bent to examine him, pulling away the t-shirt. 'Get the stretcher,' Jack ordered, and hands lifted him onto a bed, the movement causing unspeakable agony. Mercifully the darkness, which had been lurking beside him welcomed him back.

* * *

Bright light greeted him as he forced open eyelids heavy with a drug induced sleep. Tony blinked, closing them temporarily to allow them time to adjust before he forced them open again. White surrounded him, the wall, floor, blanket, sheet, pillowcase all being of that hue. A colorless tube was attached to his arm, liquid dripping through it. He felt lightheaded, aware he was heavily sedated. He pushed his blanket lower with his free arm and examined his stomach, half of it swathed in white bandages which extended round his back. Obviously he was still alive then, and in a hospital. He was alone; the only sound the respirator's steady rhythm.

Tony swallowed his disappointment. Michelle was almost certainly on her way, he would rest until her arrival. His keen hearing picked up the sound of his door pushed open, the visitor obviously wishing to enter unnoticed. Narrowing his eyes he watched a familiar figure tiptoe across the room, settling in the chair beside his bed.

'What are you doing here?' Tony managed to whisper, struggling to get his tongue around the words.

Koskinen grinned at him, reminding him of the previous occasion the man had welcomed him back. 'You failed to show up for lunch sir,' he muttered.

Tony laughed and immediately coughed, struggling to breathe. 'Easy, sir,' his sergeant told him, pulling his blanket up to his shoulders. 'Nobody expected you to make it, except me. You're in a poor condition.'

'Yeah,' Tony agreed, his head spinning. He sank onto the pillows gratefully. 'Where's Jack?'

'Mr. Bauer and your wife were forced to return to LA to answer questions regarding the use of a helicopter, sir,' Koskinen told him, struggling to keep a straight face. 'I assured them I'd remain.'

'A helicopter?' Tony repeated, his mind struggling with the new information. 'What helicopter? How did you get here? Where am I?'

'Easy sir, you should be resting. Anyone finds me here; I won't be allowed to sit in the waiting room anymore. Your wife ordered me to locate you sir, and brought me out on Division's chopper. Nobody else could find you. It took me a while too.'

Tony rubbed his face, wishing he knew how to stop the room from spinning. 'Could you pass me a little water?' he asked, hoping it would help wake him more fully.

'Absolutely not, sir,' Koskinen replied, shaking his head. 'You're not supposed to have anything for weeks. You were hit in the stomach. You're still in Mexico sir; you wouldn't have made it back to LA. They're planning to move you once you're outa danger.'

'I'm still in danger?' Tony muttered, feeling worse instantly.

'Sir, it's the doctors, they don't know you,' Koskinen assured him. 'You've been through worse, remember?'

'I was a little younger,' Tony muttered, abandoning all hope of steadying his vision, opting to close his eyes. 'Thanks for coming.'

'You got it,' Koskinen assured him. 'It's real important that you rest now, sir.'

'Yeah,' he whispered, opening his eyes again. 'Are my parents on their way?'

He caught a strange look on his sergeant's face. 'Ah, they haven't been notified, sir. Not everything's been concluded yet…'

Tony chewed his lip. 'Koskinen, they'll be out of their minds with worry by now. I'd like you to go tell them I'm ok.'

Koskinen nodded. 'As soon as we land in the States, sir. I promised Mr. Bauer I'd watch you till then. Until this person is arrested, I'm keeping an eye on all agents protecting you. Get some rest now, sir.'

'Thanks,' Tony managed to tell him before exhaustion overcame him and he lost the battle remaining awake.


	19. Back In LA

Tony's eyes lit up as his parents entered the room, rushing to his bedside. He held out his free arm and hugged them both, unwilling to let them go. 'I'm ok,' he assured them, blinking hard to contain hot tears.

'No you're not, sweetheart,' his mother said, ruffling his hair. 'They shot you!'

'I'm fine,' Tony repeated, looking her in the eye. 'I'll be allowed home soon, though I'll be on baby food for the next few weeks!'

His mother gathered him into her arms, unable to let go of him, while his father settled on the other side of the bed. 'We're good at preparing that! As soon as they clear you, we're taking you home and I'm locking all the computers away while you're there, Antonio!'

Tony squeezed his hand. 'I can live with that.' He blinked again, thrilled beyond words to see them again. 'I didn't dare hope I'd see you again.' His parents' faces paled and he chewed his lip. _Get a grip, Almeida! They're shocked at the sight of you; they're not convinced you're fine. You got to relax them._ 'They caught the guy I was tracking.'

His father shook his head. 'At what price?'

'Papa, I couldn't have lived with myself if I suspected we had a leak and didn't try to find the source. Anyway, he's in prison, he's getting what he deserves.'

His parents fell silent, noting the shadow that crept across his face when he mentioned the word. 'You're ok, Tony,' his father assured him. 'No one's guarding you. You're free to go.'

'I sure hope so,' Tony said, rubbing his face. 'Director Hodgeson wants to see me once I'm well enough to leave hospital. There's a chance he'll be pissed off about my hacking.' _There's a chance he'll charge you, Almeida, and you'll get a certain jail sentence._ He pushed the thought away forcibly, aware his heartbeat would climb dangerously and the monitors would beep, bringing the medical staff rushing in yet again.

'He probably wants to give you a medal,' his father told him optimistically. 'Hell, you deserve it! You feel well enough to tell us what happened since we saw you last.'

Tony nodded. 'Yeah, but part of it's classified. I can tell you some parts. I saw Pedro.' He glanced at his father, who shook his head. 'He gave me a job as a brick carter before he understood I was worth more in jail.'

'Why don't you start at the beginning, sweetheart?' his mother suggested and he spent the afternoon relating his escapades. Halfway through, Michelle slipped into the room and Mr. Almeida settled in a chair, allowing her to sit on the bed. They appeared highly amused by his tales of working as a laborer, Michelle's hand squeezed into her mouth. He watched her shaking shoulders and a few tears of mirth spill from her eyes and began laughing with her. A nurse sent them home after 7:00, insisting he needed rest. Tony was given a sponge bath and clean sheets and examined by a doctor who complimented him on his speedy recovery. He was ordered to get some sleep and complied, the afternoon of talking having exhausted him.

Once again his door opened and he turned his head expecting a nurse to check some vitals or change the bag of fluids they kept pumping into him. 'Jack,' he exclaimed, surprised to see his friend.

Jack gave him a warm smile, settling in the chair recently vacated by his father. 'I came as soon as I could. How are you doing, Tony?'

Tony laughed aloud, seeing his anxious expression. 'I'm fine, honest. This is a total reversal. I mean, it's usually me sitting there asking that question. You know, I'd swap places with you right now.'

'No you wouldn't,' Jack told him, relieved to see a little humor in his friend. 'You get to enjoy complete rest and lack of excitement for a while too. It's only fair. Listen, Tony,' his tone grew more serious. 'I'm real sorry I let you down.'

'You didn't let me down,' Tony exclaimed, shaking his head. 'You saved my life twice.'

'I got held up by bloody Hammond,' Jack admitted. 'By the time I got back to Mexico the show was over. I got your message and sent it on to Hodgeson, but I couldn't find you.'

Tony nodded. 'I was out of it, by then. But I understand you ordered a chopper to bring someone who could find me. Wanna tell me about that? They're a little pissed off, right?'

Jack nodded. 'You don't miss much, Tony. Let's say Buchanan wasn't aware he signed that chopper out.'

Tony pushed himself a little higher on his pillows, chuckling. 'You didn't get Michelle to forge his signature, did you? Jack, what did he say?'

Jack shrugged. 'I haven't seen him yet, we were taken straight to Hodgeson and he had quite a lot to say on the matter. Anyway, he'll have calmed down a little by the time you're to go before him.'

'Hopefully,' Tony sighed. 'The two of us together, he'd bust an artery. Seriously, Jack, what did he say about me? He reconsidered his promise to avoid prosecuting me?'

Jack shook his head. 'Don't worry about that. He's not gonna congratulate you, but he'll let it go. Just concentrate on getting better. I got to go now; it's an hour past visiting period.'

Tony shrugged. 'Stay awhile. I got the whole night to stare at the ceiling.'

Jack frowned, pointing a finger at his face. 'You're gonna sleep, Tony! Lie back and close your eyes or I'll call a nurse to sedate you.'

'Look who's talking,' Tony replied, remaining where he was. 'Did Lachlan say why he done it?' he asked casually. He had been pondering that question alone in the mountains for the entire four days, unable to come up with an answer.

Jack gave him a searching look. 'No, not yet. He got paid ok, but I doubt it was for the money. Let it go, Tony. You exposed him and he's under arrest now, it's over.'

Tony nodded, focusing on the ceiling. 'Yeah,' he muttered, his face set into a stone mask. 'It's over.'

His friend gave him a concerned look, reaching forward to lower him back into bed. 'Talk to me, Tony. We got the guy, District's mopping up. You haven't thought of anything we've missed, have you?'

'No,' Tony muttered, scowling at him. 'I'll get some sleep now. Goodbye, Jack.'

Jack nodded, unconvinced and left the room, while Tony squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears moistening his cheeks. _It's over, alright. I got the entire group responsible for that explosion, every last one of them. Turns out one of them was responsible for a lot more than that one incident, but it hasn't brought you back! You're still gone!_ He slammed his fist into the mattress, throwing off his blanket, his body burning. _Dammit, Bob, why didn't you hang on a bit longer, till they could fly you to hospital? You knew you had a kid on the way, you knew how mom and Papa would feel and you still gave up. It's never gonna be the same again, even if I strangle Lachlan, if I rip him apart piece by piece, if I pull out some of his intestines just like yours were… _Completely riled up, he forced himself to sit, disconnecting the tube that dripped liquid into him, pulling the needle. He winced slightly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. _I'm gonna tell you all about it, Bob._

Tony found his clothes in the cupboard, folded in a plastic bag on a shelf in the same condition that he had arrived in, torn and covered with blood. He pulled his trousers on, pushed bare feet into his sandals, ignoring his protesting stomach muscles as he pulled his knees up to do the straps. His t-shirt and sweater were almost impossible to put on. Fiery pain rushed along the bandages where his clothes rubbed them, and he came close to weeping as he pulled his sweater on. _Just walk outa here naturally, Almeida! Try to keep the ruined part of your sweater away from view. _He took a few steps, dismayed to feel the room swaying around him_. Dammit, you're in a bad shape. You'll feel better in the fresh air! Just keep moving_. Tony reached for the handle, leaning against the door to push the darkness further away. Slowly he turned it, pulling the door open and stepped into the corridor. It appeared deserted at that hour, and he shuffled determinedly forwards, his eyes fixed on the doors. The nurses' station was manned by one bored nurse who had her back turned towards him, chatting on the phone. Tony crept past and pushed the swinging doors with all his strength, dismayed they remained shut. Drawing a deep breath he tried again, rewarded by its opening. He held onto it as he walked out, finding himself in a corridor with several elevators on one side. Taking a deep breath he released the door and crossed the corridor, fighting the agony every movement caused and stumbled to the nearest button, summoning it.

It arrived a minute later, signaling its presence with a ring which pulled Tony back to the present. He watched the doors open and fell inside, flinging his arms out to grasp the rail as his body succumbed to dizziness. Instead of touching it he found himself propped up by an astonished Jack.

'Tony, what the hell do you think you're doing?' he cried, pulling his friend out of the elevator. 'How far do you think you'll get in this condition?'

'Lemme go,' Tony told him, eyes flashing. 'There's something I gotta take care of.'

'Not tonight,' Jack said, subduing the weakened Tony's struggles. 'You can go tell your brother all about it in a coupla days.'

Tony glared at him, propping himself stubbornly against the wall. 'Just go, Jack, ok.'

Jack snorted, grabbing his elbow. 'Tony, you'll reopen your injuries if you don't rest.' He held onto his elbow despite his friend's attempts to shake him off. 'I know what you're going through, I've been there. Trust me, nothing you can do will bring him back. You got to say goodbye and let him go.'

'Like you did, right?' Tony retorted. 'You shot her, Jack!'

Intense pain crept into Jack's eyes. 'Yeah, but it didn't bring Teri back.'

Tony lowered his eyes, ashamed of having reminded his friend of the worst time in his life. _You just can't help yourself, can you, Almeida. You WILL NOT mention that again!_ 'Don't do anything stupid, ok. Forget Lachlan, rest up and then go say farewell to your brother. Come on, Tony,' he urged, more gently. 'Lemme help you back to bed. You know you'll die if you try to go anywhere like this.' Tony studied the vinyl in silence. 'You don't want to put your parents through that,' Jack told him, taking his elbow again. 'Come on, I'll help you.'

Tony gave up and nodded, allowing Jack to support him back along the corridor. The nurse looked at them startled and called Tony's doctor, who arrived minutes after they reached his room.

'Mr. Almeida, I must protest,' he began, frowning at his patient. 'What do you imagine you're doing? No, don't bother with that sweater; I'll have it cut off him.'

'No,' Tony said, biting his lip to keep his moan inside as Jack helped it off him. His friend gave him a few seconds before he gently removed the t-shirt, exposing the freshly soaked bandages.

The doctor swore aloud, ordering a theatre prepared. 'You've reopened your stitches, Mr. Almeida. If you can't stay in bed like every other normal patient I'll have you restrained,' he snapped.

Tony leaned against Jack, too spent to speak. He barely noticed being laid on a bed and rushed down the corridor and back to theatre.

His mother sat beside him when he awoke, holding his hand. She noticed his eyelids fluttered and bent over him, holding him down gently. 'Shush, sweetheart, it's real important you lie still,' she told him, stroking his hair. 'Go back to sleep, Tony.'

The following days passed in a haze full of vague memories. Michelle spent hours holding his hand and begging him to open his eyes, Jack visited him a few times, staying to talk, though he could not remember any of what he said. Koskinen came, bringing a present in a box he could not see, to which his father objected vehemently. 'He can't drink that!' Koskinen assured him it was for later, bidding Tony farewell as he was scheduled to return to the Gulf. Tony struggled to form the word 'goodbye,' letting him know he understood. His sisters came, talking to him quietly, and his youngest brother Joey came, explaining the latest astronomical discoveries. He drifted in and out of consciousness, unaware how these visitors arrived or departed. His parents were the one constant that remained unchanged, relieving each other as they kept a silent vigil by his side.

* * *

The sun shone on the day of his discharge from the hospital, and he pulled his eyes together to block out the brightness. Michelle drove him home and led him into the office, where she had set up a spare bed. 'You'll never manage the stairs yet, Tony,' she told him when he protested.

'But I wanna sleep near you,' he argued, reveling in her touch as she removed his clothes and helped him dress in a comfortable t-shirt. 'You're not gonna make me sleep down here by myself? Honey, are you mad at me?'

Michelle stared at him shocked. 'Tony, how could you think that? What did they put in that anesthetic?' She grinned at him and he felt a smile creep over his face. 'I'm gonna sleep right here with you, on a mattress' she told him, hugging him carefully. 'How does that sound, sweetheart?'

Tony leaned against the pillows, the trip from the hospital having been enough to use up what little energy he had regained. 'Sounds fine. It would sound even better if you'd forget the spare mattress part! This bed is big enough for two!'

Michelle ran her hand through his hair, unable to let go of him. 'Sweetheart, will you ever forgive me for being away while you were interrogated?' she asked. 'I could've looked into the information you found – at least I could've prevented Hammond torturing you.'

He shook his head gently, noting the concern in her eyes. 'Come here, honey. I'm real glad you weren't anywhere near here at the time. The last thing, I mean the very last thing I'd have needed was you to get dragged down with me.' He pulled her closer to him, kissing her firmly. 'Would you sit with me a bit?' he asked, laying his head on the pillow.

Michelle nodded, stroking his hair till he fell asleep.

She made breakfast in the morning, helped him dress and drove him to his parents' house while she went to work. Undoing his seatbelt, she leaned over him, kissing him. 'Tony, behave yourself! I'll call you. Just rest on the couch and watch some TV!'

'Yes ma'am,' he agreed, grinning at her. 'Why do I feel like a kid dropped off to be babysat?'

Michelle laughed with him, helping him out of the car and over to the house. His parents watched them from an open doorway, delighted to see them together. 'Hi Tony, hi Michelle,' his mother greeted them. 'Have you got time to come in, Michelle?'

She shook her head. 'No, I'm late to work as it is. Make sure he gets plenty of rest, won't you?' she asked anxiously.

'Oh, we will,' his father assured her. 'He won't leave the couch! Come in, Tony,' he instructed, helping him settle. 'Are you warm enough?'

Tony nodded, enjoying their fussing over him. His mother brought a blanket to tuck him up, despite his assurance that he wasn't cold and lit the heater, while his father hurried to the kitchen to bring him a fresh cup of coffee. Tony lay back, watching them, swallowing a lump in his throat. _Didn't think I'd ever get to see them again, let alone come home. _Deep down he was aware of the possibility of losing it all again, if Hodgeson chose to prosecute him.

The phone rang and his mother answered, carrying it over to him. 'Tony, it's for you. Miguel Alvarez,' she told him, leaving the room quietly.

Tony took the phone. 'Miguel, how are you? Tell me you're ok,' he begged. 'I was gonna call to thank you.'

'You owe me big time, Tony,' the voice on the other end of the line said, a hint of humor in the tone. He relaxed, sensing his counterpart was obviously safe.

'I know. Did you get any flak?' he inquired.

'Oh, just a "little". I spent the last two weeks under arrest, answering questions about why I left my post, why I delayed your departure with the agents, why I called Jack, and especially about why I handed over a secure tape recording of Miller's last conversation he received in Mexico. It was scrambled; I had to work on it before it got to Jack. Unfortunately it doesn't implicate Lachlan, but it leads to a middle man. They were especially pissed off about that tape,' he admitted. 'Guess I won't be seeing a pay rise for the next coupla years.'

'I'm real sorry,' Tony told him, guiltily.

'Don't be. You didn't ask me to help you; I did so of my own free will! How about you? They let you out of hospital, are you ok now?'

'Yeah,' he agreed. 'Still got to be helped around, but I'm ok.' He paused, praying that he was indeed so.

'What about Mr. Hodgeson? Have you seen him yet?' Miguel inquired anxiously.

Tony sighed. 'Not yet. I have an interview with him Tuesday morning.' He drew a deep breath, noting his clenched fists. 'Sure hope it goes ok.'

'It will,' Miguel assured him. 'I was only released because he phoned my bosses to pass on his thanks to me for helping you out. He wouldn't have bothered if he'd be pissed off with you. Are you coming back to Mexico sometime? We could catch up in more cheerful surroundings than last time.'

They laughed together, Tony rubbing his sore stomach muscles. 'I will.'

'You should. There must be a few people you need to thank,' Miguel teased, laughing at the ensuing silence. 'Don't worry, Tony, I won't spy on you. Call me when you want to meet up.'

'I will,' Tony promised. 'Gracias,' he said softly, hanging up. _Thank God he's ok. That's one less thing you have to worry about, Almeida. Now once you get past Hodgeson's lecture, you can relax._


	20. The Verdict

An icy wind shrieked down the street threatening to slam the door shut on him as Tony lifted his legs carefully out of his car. He held onto it with difficulty as he pulled himself up, before locking it. The imposing building before him threw a shadow across the entire car park. Tony swallowed involuntarily, praying for divine assistance. The man who had summoned him had every reason to be displeased about his hacking and held his future in his hands, having the power to send him to prison for the remainder of his life. _Come on, Almeida, if he would've wanted to, he would've had you transferred to LA Federal after the hospital cleared you. He would hardly have allowed you to go home and possibly slip away. Pull yourself together and go upstairs to apologize to him, and accept whatever disciplinary measures he sees fit to impose. You've been through the wringer before. As long as you're free and with Michelle, you're ok, even if you'll never get a position above garbage man again!_ 'I can live with that,' he muttered to himself, climbing painfully up the handful of stairs that led to an imposing glass door, and he knew he spoke truthfully.

'I'm Tony Almeida,' he told the security guard in the booth, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. 'Mr. Hodgeson wanted to see me.'

The guard gave him a visitor's pass and he went through the metal detector, where a second security guard met him and escorted him across a large floor and over to an elevator. To Tony's dismay the man remained with him, taking him all the way to Hodgeson's office. He settled on a couch in the secretary's office, asking Tony to sit down beside him. Tony complied, wondering what would happen should he refuse. Presently the secretary spoke into the phone and looked at him. 'You may go in now, Mr. Almeida.'

Tony glanced at his guard who made no attempt to rise. Breathing easier he walked over to the solid oak door behind the secretary. _Time to face the music, Almeida!_ He stepped inside a modern office with an imposing mahogany desk, feeling his fingers grow clammy. 'Mr. Hodgeson, sir,' he said softly.

The secretary closed the door behind them while he attempted to wipe his moist hands inconspicuously in his trousers.

'Sit down, Almeida,' Hodgeson began, his tone reminding Tony of his first principal in LA, who had objected to his frequent absences. Tony settled on a chair and placed his hands in his lap, prepared to listen to a long lecture. 'You took it upon yourself to hack into my department, the highest level of security in this country and run a background check on my most senior employees, after which you hacked in deeper to examine their private files. Care to comment on that?' His eyes raked Tony's.

'I'm sorry, sir,' Tony muttered, his throat suddenly dry.

'I certainly hope so,' Hodgeson told him. 'That, however, is immaterial to this investigation. I understand the reason you were searching for a mole high up in this department, it was a logical deduction.'

Tony breathed out, his face hot.

'What I fail to comprehend, however, is why you neglected to bring the information to my attention.' He paused, the silence hanging between them choking Tony. 'I want an answer,' he snapped, his eyes hard.

Tony attempted to swallow in vain. 'Sir, it was wrong of me to have hacked into District in the first place,' he admitted. 'What I found led me to continue my search for a mole. You're right – I should have brought my information to you right away, but I didn't dare to.' He gazed at the polished table, sighing deeply. 'I was afraid you would ignore my information, and prosecute me.'

'As you would have fully deserved,' Hodgeson told him.

'Yes sir,' Tony answered. 'But you see, sir, this man was responsible for my brother's death. It was personal,' he finished, feeling his fists clench. A picture of Bobby sprang into his mind, bouncing his basketball in their garden, laughing at him. To his horror he felt tears prick the back of his eyes and he blinked angrily, hoping Hodgeson hadn't noticed them.

'A personal vendetta,' Hodgeson remarked, laying his hands on the desk. 'You were prepared to accept the consequences of your actions as long as you located this mole. Am I right, Almeida?' he pushed.

Tony gave a small nod. 'Yes sir, that's right,' he replied. 'I was prepared to follow my leads wherever they would take me.'

Hodgeson tapped at the desk and he looked up, meeting curious eyes. 'And once you found this man, and made certain you had the right mole, what did you propose doing to him?' he questioned, his eyes boring deep into Tony's. 'Would you then have admitted your hacking and brought him to my attention?'

Tony gazed at the table in utter silence, rubbing his chin.

'I'm waiting,' Hodgeson reminded him.

'I can't answer that, sir,' he said, red faced. 'I never got that far.'

'Almeida, what would you have done with him?' pressed Hodgeson.

Tony rubbed his forehead, exhaling sharply. 'I would've emptied my gun into him, watched him die slowly, like my brother did,' he answered_. Now you've done it, Almeida! You'll be lucky to be allowed out of this building without handcuffs!_

Hodgeson nodded. 'You're honest,' he said, his tone icy. 'And what then? You would've dumped the body and walked away?'

Tony rubbed his face vigorously. 'No sir,' he said, shaking his head. 'I guess I would've turned myself in.' He gazed upwards, meeting Hodgeson's eyes.

'And here you are, only without shooting anyone,' Hodgeson told him. 'You served a year of a life sentence in prison for treason,' he continued, while the blood rushed to Tony's head. 'You were extremely fortunate the president pardoned you. Reading your file, you had a quite a hard time inside. Were you really prepared to return there?' He gave Tony a searching look, noting his clenched fists.

Tony shook his head. 'No sir,' he admitted. 'I can't face that again. If you feel it's necessary to punish me with further imprisonment, let me ask you one favor. I did uncover a mole and help catch him. You got to promise the death penalty rather than a prison term.'

'Trust me, I'm considering it,' Hodgeson told him, his tone hard. 'Mr. Almeida, you're no longer a federal agent. You don't work for this government – you never will again. As far as this government is concerned, you're unreliable. A lot of money was invested in your education and you failed to reciprocate, in fact you let us down during the most critical period in this country's history! You betrayed us all voluntarily. If it were up to me, you'd never have set foot outside a prison again.'

Light from the sun's reflection caused the polished mahogany table to shine, enhancing every part of the timber. The slight shadow his body threw was outlined in clear detail, blotting the surface, removing a little of the perfection from the furniture. Tony's eyes rested on the spot. His heart ached as though it had been slashed apart in front of him_. They're never going to forget about that, Almeida. You're unredeemable. That black patch there, that's you!_

'President Palmer pardoned you, why, I don't know. That however does NOT entitle you to meddle in governmental affairs again. You ever hack into any department, I will personally make sure you return to prison for the rest of your life. Is that absolutely clear, Almeida?' Tony nodded, too broken to speak. 'It better be. Go find yourself a job where security isn't an issue, if there's indeed any position they'll consider an ex-con for! You had your chance and you failed. I'm going to make certain your wife discusses absolutely nothing confidential with you either.'

'She hasn't done so,' Tony managed to tell him, his eyes on the dark shadow before him that moved slightly as he gave in to his urge to rub his face. _It moves with you, Almeida. That's because it is you, a blot on the nation!_ The fact that the grey suited man lecturing him had harbored the worst traitor in intelligence and would in fact still be doing so appeared inconsequential in the light of his previous treason.

'You're forbidden to make any enquiries about matters of national security, is that clear?' He nodded again, having lost his ability to speak once more. 'Now get out, Almeida. I don't want to hear your name mentioned again.'

Tony stood shakily, his right hand clutching the back of his chair to steady himself. 'Yes sir,' he said and almost rushed for the door, his face burning. He felt lighthearted, following the guard along the corridor and down the elevator. _It's over, Almeida. They're not sending you back to prison! _His future appeared secure if not rosy; he was free to return to his family. _You're real lucky, Almeida! You'll start a new life._ He wished he believed it.

He unlocked his car and climbed in, the wind slamming the door behind him. Resting his elbows on the steering wheel, he allowed his head to drop into his hands. Jack had been right at the hospital, it was over. Every single terrorist involved in the port explosion had been apprehended and placed behind bars. Only one thing remained to be done. Tony started his car and drove to the other side of the city. It rained during the long drive, his windscreen wipers battling to clear his front window enough to give him minor visibility. Traffic crawled.

By the time Tony arrived at the war cemetery the weather had cleared. He climbed out of the car and placed the keys in his pocket, walking slowly over to the gate. Rain dripped from the trees he passed, wetting his neck. Due to the howling wind he found he had the place to himself. He pushed the gate shut behind him and paused, shocked to see the silent rows of crosses. _302 killed in the blast, either instantly or within the next few weeks from related injuries, that's a huge figure. You just never really pictured that many graves. _He swallowed a lump down, following the alphabetical lines until he came upon a grave identical to all the others, a simple white cross bearing his brother's name.

Tony sank onto the wet lawn, wiping his eyes. It was his first visit to his brother as he had been denied leave from prison to attend the funeral, and he had avoided the place after his subsequent release, unable to face the grave.

'Hey Bob,' he whispered softly, laying a hand on the earth. He fell silent, struggling with his emotions until he gave up and wept. Weak sunshine warmed the ground, the sweet smell of wet grass filling his nose. 'I got them all, a coupla weeks ago,' Tony began, chewing his lip. 'The ones who blew up the ship were easy enough to get, it was harder to find the mole who leaked info on your exact location, but I got him too. They're not gonna do it again.' He stopped, his heart aching, imagining he was making a long distance call to his brother. There was more to tell. He sighed, rubbing his face to ease the tense muscles. 'Sam's okay, Bobby, she's gone back to work. Your baby's real cute, you would've adored him. He's walking now, hanging onto the furniture. I took him outside yesterday, showed him the basketball court where we used to play. You know, I think he liked it.' He paused again, taking a deep breath before he continued. 'Marco's been real kind to them. You know he always liked her too, but she was your girlfriend. Bob, he's asked her to marry him. They'll do ok together, and he'll be great with the baby. And I'll keep an eye on him too, I promise. I won't let anyone hurt him, you can count on it.'

A deep peace filled him and he shut his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the winter sun. "You got to say goodbye and let him go." Jack was right; he had needed to do so. Tony pushed himself up slowly, his stomach muscles twisting painfully. 'Bobby, I'm going home now.' The words sounded like magic to him, he felt the last of the tension depart. 'I'll come see you again real soon, tell you what everyone's doing. Bye.'

He walked back to his car, closing the gate of the war cemetery behind him. The afternoon stretched ahead of him and he leaned against the door, uncertain where to go. A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he jumped, fists clenched, instinctively ready to defend himself.

'It's okay, sweetheart, it's only me,' Michelle's voice told him and he saw her anxious face watching him.

'I'm sorry, honey,' he apologized, drawing her closer. 'What are you doing here?'

'I kinda thought you'd come here,' she told him, stroking his hair. 'Are you ok, sweetheart?'

Tony nodded, unwilling to let her go. 'Yeah,' he said, glad of her support. 'I'm ok now.' He leaned against the door, allowing it to take his weight. 'Just, my stomach muscles are not too sure about this day.'

Michelle looked at him concerned. 'Tony, you're in pain.'

'Just a little,' he admitted, watching her return to her car and withdraw a packet of painkillers.

'Take one. I'll pour you a coffee.' He stared at her astonished, aware of her views on the amount of coffee he drank, accepting his hot drink gratefully. 'What did Hodgeson say?' she pressed, slipping her hand into his and giving him a supportive squeeze.

Tony shook his head. 'What do you think, honey?' He drew a deep breath. 'He just reminded me of exactly what I am. I was kinda forgetting over in Mexico.'

'And what exactly are you?' she asked gently, tracing the outline of his cheeks with a finger.

'We both know the answer to that one,' he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

Michelle gave him a searching look. 'He didn't bring the past up, did he?' she asked shocked. 'That was uncalled for. I hope you reminded him of the flaws within his own department.' She looked at him so fiercely he almost grinned. Tearing his eyes from hers, he shook his head. 'Why not?' she cried outraged. 'He insults you and you just take it! Tell me why, sweetheart.'

'He was right,' Tony muttered, watching the raindrops on the blades of grass near their shoes. 'Nothing's gonna change what I did sweetheart.' Once again he fell silent, relieved his tears were spent.

Michelle's hand tightened in his own. 'You're the bravest man I ever met, Tony Almeida,' she said. 'I never got to tell you that did I? Look at me,' she ordered, tilting his face upwards from where it was fixed on the lawn. 'Tony, I'm proud to be married to you. You gave up everything to save me and now you were willing to give your life to catch Lachlan. You're a good man.'

Tony blinked hurriedly, the final sentence stabbing his shattered heart. He wished he were able to believe her.

'If Hodgeson behaves like a bastard and refuses to help you, I will! You're smart, I know plenty of people who'll be glad to hire you,' she assured him. 'We'll do ok, Tony, you'll see.'

He nodded, determined to be strong for her. 'I know.' Without her support he would have been tempted to take his entire packet of painkillers together with a drink and go to sleep on the couch. _She loves you, Almeida. Sure she'd be better off without you, but she wants you near her for some reason. She's not ashamed of you._ The shadow beside him moved as he returned the cup to the car.

'Tony are you well enough to drive home? I thought I'll get us some take-out and then I'll put you to bed, don't shake your head,' she interrupted herself, 'and then, once you've had a long rest, we could spend the afternoon together.'

Tony glanced at her, reading the longing in her eyes. 'Sounds great,' he agreed, a little of the pain leaving him. 'I'll drive home, don't you worry!'

Michelle collected the boxes once they had finished lunch and took them outside to the garden bin, not wishing Tony to stare into the kitchen bin and comment on the amount of packages it contained. He watched her, understanding her actions perfectly, highly amused. _Better get well soon, Almeida. She really needs a few good meals, and you can use some too!_

He laid his hand on the banisters, climbing the stairs to their bedroom, determined to reach the landing before she returned to the house. _You made it, Almeida!_ He heard her shut the door behind her, searching for him. 'I'm over here, honey,' he called, his eyes sparkling. 'Want to come upstairs, keep me company?'

'How did you manage the stairs?' she cried, rushing after him. 'Tony, your mom will kill me if she finds you here when she comes tonight!'

'Oh, I expect we'll be down by then,' he whispered mischievously, pushing open their bedroom door. She moved to draw the curtains while he watched her, longing to run his hands through her hair. He sank onto the covers, pulling her down after him, kissing her neck while she unbuckled his belt.

'Let me give you a hand undressing, sweetheart,' she whispered and he nodded.

'Yeah,' he agreed, undoing her blouse. 'It's been a while.'

Michelle nodded, pulling back the covers and cuddling up to him, their bodies warming each other. He noticed her fingers tracing the fresh scars across his stomach and he removed her hand gently, pulling the blanket over himself. 'I'm fine, sweetheart, the scars just a take a while to fade.' He rolled on top of her, kissing her deeply. 'Did you have something special in mind, honey?'

Michelle surprised him by pushing his chest upwards, meeting his eyes. 'Actually, Tony, I did. We're both ok, we're together again and this month made me realize life is real short. We shouldn't waste it.'

He shook his head, wondering what was coming.

'You were great with little Bobby,' she whispered, a smile across her face. 'Don't you think it's about time we tried for our own baby?'

He gazed at her speechless. 'You sure about this, sweetheart? A baby's kind of permanent,' he whispered, hope surging through him.

She nodded firmly. 'I'm sure. We're gonna be together a real long time, Tony and you'll make an excellent father.' She pulled him down towards her, opening her mouth and he kissed her hungrily.

'I'd like that,' he whispered in her ear. The shadow beside him faded in the darkness.


End file.
